Austen House
by Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley
Summary: MULTI-CROSSOVER. Emma is matchmaking, Lizzie is avoiding Darcy, Ellen is trying to tame her wild sister, Fanny and Anne strive for more self-confidence, and Cathy wants an adventure. who ever said university was easy?
1. Prologue: Our Unlikely Heroines

_No one who had ever seen Catherine Moreland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be a heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. – Northanger Abbey, by Jane Austen. _

"I can't believe Taylor is abandoning me and the girls like this!"

George Knightly barely looked up from his book as his best and oldest friend in the world paced up and down the room in agitation. They had just come back from the wedding of their mutual friend Taylor Annis and their much older neighbour Mr Weston. The first thing George did once back in Hartfield was take his jacket off, pull off his tie, roll up his sleeves and flop onto his favourite armchair as Emma's housekeeper went to fetch some ice cold lemonade. Emma, however, was still dressed in her bridesmaid dress and was fuming over Taylor's decision to not only take a gap year but to leave Austen House and therefore leave Emma with one person's rent short.

"You only have yourself to blame," George pointed out, "as you keep boasting you were the one that brought them together with your _wonderful _matchmaking skills."

"There's no need to be sarcastic George," Emma snapped as she stood before him. "Fanny's tyrannical godparents refuse to let her live in a co-ed house. We need a trustworthy girl to take Taylor's spot and pay the last bit of rent or everyone is in trouble. Not just I but Lizzie, Ellen, Anne, and Fanny would be in terrible trouble with Dad if we didn't pay the rent properly. He has been kind enough to charge low rent but he can't be too lenient."

"Yes he still has to pay off the mortgage on the said house," George agreed. He couldn't believe it when Mr Woodhouse announced midway through Emma's first year that he could not bear having his daughter live in a dirty dorm and then immediately brought her a house that he ensured was spotless, safe, and unlikely to let the cold in. He then decreed that Emma and her friends could live there on low rent providing the friends were trustworthy and paid their rent in full and on time. "Do you know any girls looking for a room?" he asked.

"Miss Bates said something about her niece doing her Masters in London but I don't feel comfortable enough to invite her, Lizzie would have my head if I invited Caroline Bingley to stay, majority of the drama group have renewed their contracts, and I really don't know any other girls," Emma said as she started pacing again. "I need to find someone within _days_, George, Fanny is returning to London soon and if her godfather notices an empty room he may just pull her out of university!"

"I doubt Mr Bertram is that melodramatic," George snorted.

Emma shot him the filthiest look he had ever received from her. He calmly stared back at her refusing to allow her to intimidate him but not for the first time he couldn't help but wonder what exactly Emma was hiding from him when it came to Fanny Price and her adoptive family.

"I wouldn't panic over finding a new housemate anyway," George said, "you can just phone the student housing office and give them a list of requirements so they can then find you a new housemate. I'm sure there is some foreign exchange student who would rather live in a house than a residence hall."

George's view of the living room in Hartfield was suddenly obscured by pink frills as Emma flung her arms round his neck. "George, you are a genius!" she cried out cheerfully. "I don't know what I would do without you."

George knew exactly what Emma would do without him...get into a heck lot more trouble than she should.

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Cathy Moreland was crying.

No! Crying was not the proper word for it! She was sobbing in despair, hysterically releasing all her pain, worries, and fears in a waterfall of tears! Her life as she knew it was ruined! Her five hundred pounds long gone and she had nowhere to live for her second year! Oh what was she going to tell Mum and Dad? She couldn't go home in shame it would cause such ridicule amongst her siblings!

How could Isabella do this to her?

The woman behind the desk looked highly uncomfortable as Cathy continued to sob in despair. She had just explained her tragic and rather dramatic story of how she became homeless and the cold woman did absolutely nothing to comfort her in her time of need! Oh! How could no one be moved about her tale of being conned out of a deposit and only now finding out there is nowhere to go in the terrifying city of London? That her dearest and bestest friend in the whole world had not bothered to tell her she found somewhere else and forgotten about Cathy all together?

"Miss Moreland, you need to calm down," the woman said in what Cathy was sure to be a frosty tone, "there is very little I can do if you're crying and not listening to a word I say."

"B-b-but what am I going to do?!" Cathy wailed.

The woman sighed as she passed over the Kleenex box to Cathy as she continued to sob. "Miss Moreland if you just li-" the phone rang abruptly causing Cathy to jump and the woman looked instantly relieved as she hastily answered it. "Hello, Student Housing Office, how can I help you?" there is a long pause as the woman listened to the person on the other line. The longer the pause the more Cathy felt highly uncomfortable, the woman had taken to staring at her with a very strange look in her eyes, it was rather terrifying and Cathy desperately hoped she hadn't somehow managed to stumble upon a sex slave trade hiding within the University walls. "No need to say anymore Miss Woodhouse," the woman said cheerfully into the phone, "I just happen to have the perfect girl for you."

Oh no what on earth has Cathy gotten into _now_?!

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The Bennett household was noisy as it was every single day since Lizzie could remember. Her younger sister Mary was practising the piano, her mother was humming loudly and tunelessly to the music as she prepared dinner, Kitty and Lydia were bickering in the garden, and her father sighed deeply before turning up the radio even louder.

The only person who was not home right now was Jane but it won't be long till she arrived exhausted from another day's hard work at the only cafe in Meryton. Even then the chances of Lizzie seeing Jane for long were pretty much mute since Jane finally found her Prince Charming in Charlie Bingley and spent every possible waking second when she wasn't in work with him.

Though there had been far too many times when Lizzie has gone into the cafe to find Charlie sitting there with a stone cold cup of tea as he stares dreamily at Jane much to his sister's annoyance.

Lizzie shook her head and tried to focus back on her book when Kitty let out a shrill screech that echoed throughout the whole street never mind the house.

"MUM! TELL LYDIA TO GIVE ME BACK MY CD!"

"LYDIA CHASTITY BENNETT AND KATHERINE TEMPERANCE BENNETT THE PAIR OF YOU WILL STOP THIS NONSENSE RIGHT NOW OR I SHALL BANG YOUR HEADS TOGETHER!"

Lizzie sighed and quickly sloped off into her father's study as her youngest two sisters started to protest against their mother. As much as she loved the twins she often found them highly immature and stubborn to the point they never know when to quit. It was best to hide before this particular argument exploded into epic proportions.

Old war time tunes were playing loudly on the radio she grinned at the sight of her father rereading a favourite of his in his favourite armchair. He looked up when she shut the door firmly and smiled at her with that smile he reserved only for her. "Ah it's my Busy Lizzie, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Just looking for a place to read," Lizzie grinned holding up her own book.

"I imagine you can hardly wait to rush off back to London," Mr Bennett said with a wry grin, "the busy city must seem peaceful and quiet without your sisters arguing over one thing or the other."

"Oh you have no idea," Lizzie groaned, "I love them. I really do, but they don't half irritate me. Honestly a CD? Surely there are more important things to fight over!"

"They will mature in time," Mr Bennett said as he made room for Lizzie on his armchair. Since she was four years old she would always sit in his armchair with him while she read or they listened to a drama on the radio. It had been their father/daughter time. "They are only fifteen. I recall a certain fifteen year old who would dress in nothing but black and vow to only date vampires. I must say I am glad you grew out of that phrase it would be awkward having a son in law who can't eat your mother's cooking."

"God, what was I thinking back then?" Lizzie moaned in embarrassment. She had almost forgotten her vampire phrase almost six years ago. So much has happened since then. "No, don't answer that! Obviously I wasn't thinking at all."

"Don't be so hard on yourself Lizzie," Mr Bennett said as he rubbed her arm reassuringly, "you were just a child back then. All children say silly things just like Kitty and Lydia are fighting over the silliest of things now. In six years time they will look back and wonder what on earth were they thinking though whether or not I still have my wits by then is an entirely different matter..."

Lizzie chuckled quietly at her father before she returned to her book. It was the perfect pastime to sit in the study listening to old music and stealing a cuddle from her Dad no matter how old she was. Eventually as usual the tranquillity was ruined by the loud knock on the door and her mother opening immediately after.

"There you are! Lizzie I need you to set the table, dinner will be ready in ten minutes so wash your hands as well, and you Mr Bennett! I bet your hands are covered in tobacco from your pipe!"

"As you wish darling," Mr Bennett said without looking up from his book.

Lizzie closed her and tucked it under her arm as she followed her mother out of the study and down the hall. "I cooked your favourite Lizzie," her mother twittered ahead of her, "Since it's your last night home I wanted it to be special." She stopped suddenly and Lizzie almost bumped into her when she suddenly turned round and caught her into a smothering embrace. "Oh my baby girl! Almost a university graduate! I am so proud but oh I do wish you spent more time at home. I do worry about you, what if something happened to you without me taking care of you?!"

"Mum!" Lizzie moaned as she struggled to escape her Mum. "You're strangling me!"

Sadly she knew this was going to be the first of many bone-crushing hugs until she was finally on that goddamn train.

Just sixteen hours and thirty three minutes to go.

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Fanny Price had forgotten what movie she was watching.

It was even worse than how it sounded since she was still watching it and she can't remember for the life of her what the plot was. Or even who the characters were and what they were saying right this very second. While this may sound like she has the attention span of goldfish there was a very good reason as to why she can't remember what movie she was watching.

And that very good reason was called Edmund Arthur Charles Philip Bertram.

Fanny smothered a sigh with her hand as she watched his shoulders slowly go up and down each time he breathed. They were very fine shoulders, not too broad or athletic but just perfect enough to steal away all her attention. As was his hair in fact; he had a little curl just at the back that brushed his collar every few seconds.

She was already distracted and this was just his back for Christ sake! (may God forgive her for taking the Lord's name in vain) he had a very beautiful front as well with soulful dark eyes, full lips, and perfect nose, and it was not just his looks that made him so beautiful but his personality as well. She has never known a kinder or gentler soul than Edmund though she was certain Emma would protest against that.

It was her last day in Mansfield Park and Edmund had very kindly insisted on spending it with her. His parents, also her godparents, had gone away on a long holiday, Aunt Norris had taken Mariah and Julia on a spa weekend, and so that left Tom, Edmund, and Fanny alone in the house. Tom was out with some friends but was coming back with pizza soon before watching some films with Edmund and Fanny and then was taking Fanny into London the next day and help her get settled back into Austen House.

Until then it would just be her and Edmund for another blissful hour.

She stretched out her arms and took in the space between the tips of her fingers and Edmund's back...

She only just had to lean forward and she could touch him.

A braver woman might just do that. She would go out with all the confidence in the world and use this moment alone as an advantage to seduce him into her own bed. But Fanny had never been the confident, brave, and seductive type, instead she was the meek, timid, little girl type and that meant she slumped back into the bed and closed her eyes to prevent any tears of dejection to escape.

She hoped Tom would come back sooner with the pizza.

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"Ellen, is that you dear?"

Ellen had barely closed the door when her mother called out to her. Then before she could reply Meg came running down the stairs and threw her arms round her neck. "Ellen! We heard from Marianne! She's in Ireland dancing and drinking! Doesn't that sound wonderful? I want to go to Ireland too!"

"Margret Iris Dashwood!" her mother in all her tired glory of a hard day's work came rushing into the hallway. "You let your sister in first before you throw yourself at her like a monkey and start screeching in her ear!"

"But Muuuum!" Meg moaned. "I wanted to tell her about Marianne!"

"No but Mums!" Mrs Dashwood snapped. "Go into the kitchen and set the table like a good girl."

Meg stomped into the kitchen with a loud huff proving herself to not be a good girl like her mother asked. Mrs Dashwood didn't mind though she just shared an exasperated smile with her eldest daughter.

"So Marianne phoned?" Ellen asked as took her shoes off.

"Just half an hour ago, it wasn't a long conversation it might have been better if she texted," Mrs Dashwood frowned. Marianne was nineteen and wildly out of control, she packed up a rucksack last year and had never been seen since. "She sounded like she was having fun. How was work?"

"The usual, I spent most of today filling out my transfer form again so I can head back to the branch near the campus," Ellen shrugged. "Then I was assured that my next pay check will be in tomorrow so I can help pay the-"

"Absolutely not," her mother interrupted her. "I don't need your help to pay the bills Ellen. With just me and Margret for majority of the year I have plenty of money left over in case a sudden expense came out of thin air. Besides you need that money yourself for rent and bills in London which is not as cheap."

"My loan and grants can cover that," Ellen pointed out. "Besides I just want to help you."

Mrs Dashwood softened as she reached up and cupped her daughter's cheek, "I know you do, dear, and I am so proud of you for it. You're such a responsible girl but I want you to have some _fun_ in your life. Now go and wash up and come down for dinner, I cooked your favourite."

Ellen sighed as her mother left her in the hallway. She had heard this compliment and worry over and over again since she had finished her GCSE's and took a part time job to help out after her father died. The finances had taken a huge blow and their inheritance turned out not to be assured as they thought since their father never changed his insurance policy. Marianne got her fickle memory and nature from him.

She had no problem with being responsible because _someone _had to but sometimes she wishes she could just go out there and do things like Marianne.

She sometimes fears that she had long forgotten what fun was.

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Anne packed the last of her clothes into the suitcase and looked up at her room.

It was hideously bare compared to how it used to look. When she had been a little girl it was brightly coloured with over the top frilly curtains and a matching four poster bed, and filled to the brim with expensive toys that she had no need of. When money became a bit of an issue she used to help her Mum smuggle out the toys and sell them to help pay the electric bill. Now she just outright sold her Christmas gifts from her father just to pay for food in the house.

Not that anyone noticed they were so absorbed in their own lives. Her father with his reflection or gambling, her older sister with her health and children, and her younger sister with her reflection and many boyfriends.

The only person to pay the slightest attention to Anne was her aunt and even then she questioned to herself whether or not that was a good thing.

Anne sighed heavily as she zipped her case up and tided the last few things that she would have to pack in the morning before her aunt came to pick her up. Her room was so empty and lifeless and she can't help but wonder if the transformation from it's over the top glory to this was a reflection of her own life.

Once she had been ignorant and blissful about her life. She was little Annie Elliot the apple of her Daddy's eye but gradually after one realisation after another followed by the loss of her mother and then Fred...she had become Anne, sad, lonely, and lifeless Anne. Very easy to forget Anne Elliot.

Emma had never forgotten her. Neither had Lizzie, Ellen, George, Fanny, and Taylor. In fact Emma emailed once a week with the occasional snarky text about George's latest rude comment (and George did the same only about Emma), Lizzie wrote lovingly long letters complaining about her sisters and mother, Ellen emailed once every couple weeks due to her busy work life, Fanny also wrote letters though they were reserved as the writer, and Taylor had invited her to the wedding. She had to turn it down due to the inconvenience of the date just like the others apart from Emma had to.

But it led to the question whether or not this makes her a terrible person. Not her saying no to the invitation but the fact that these people felt more like family to her than her own biological family. Did the fact Austen House feel more like home than her own home make her a bad person?

She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

But she really wanted it to be a no.

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Cathy Moreland wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing.

Here she stood in front of a beautiful large house in a street full of large beautiful old buildings with nothing but her suitcase, laptop bag, and handbag. She might as well have MUG ME tattooed on her forehead. Then to top it all off she was going to live with _strangers_. She was going into another situation blind and what if she's conned out of all of her money times time? Oh the shame and horror! She would be _homeless_!

But then Austen House was so lovely! It had those beautiful large bay windows and was made of stone and had a lovely bright red door with a lion shaped knocker on it and a brass plate next to it with its name engraved on it. The front garden was small but covered in flowers blooming in bright and vibrant colours. She hadn't seen the inside yet and already she wanted to live here forever with a wonderful heroic husband and three children, oh and a dog.

She bit her lip nervously and wondered if she should risk rushing back at the office but then again they would be shut by now. The woman had locked the door right behind Cathy and ran off to her car before Cathy could ask her another question about this Emma Woodhouse and Austen House.

A blue car slowed to a halt in front of her and a stunning blonde leaped out of the car. The driver looked furious! Oh what if she just stumbled upon a lover's tiff? Did he just insult her or was she leaving him because he refused to make her a honest woman?

"Emma! Let me finish parking the car before you jump out!" the man shouted.

Emma ignored him as she stared directly at Cathy, she had very pale bright blue eyes that terrified the life out of Cathy (she was so sure they could see into her soul and condemn her to hell!), and then they brightened up as she smiled. "You must be Catherine Moreland, I'm Emma Woodhouse, your housemate this year," she then embraced Cathy all of the sudden. It was so lovely and overwhelming all at the same time! She smelt like perfume and vanilla mixed together.

"Please call me Cathy," Cathy managed to choke out as she hugged Emma back. "That's what everyone else calls me."

Emma pulled back and smiled at her before she pulled out a set of keys and took hold of Cathy's suitcase and dragged it up the pathway. She unlocked the door and revealed a long, dark, and rather dusty hallway.

"Welcome to Austen House, Cathy."


	2. Chapter 1: Welcome Home to Austen House

_Rule Number 3: every girl living at Austen House must cook dinner one night a week, apart from Emma, who will pay for dinner once a week instead.  
_**I am not that bad at cooking! Stop listening to everything George says! – **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse. **_

Emma bit her lip to prevent a giggle from bursting out as Cathy bounced excitedly behind her. She had already shown Cathy the downstairs toilet, the large spotless kitchen, and the large room that doubled up as a living room and dining room. The whole downstairs was elegantly decorated with the exception of the large A3 paper dictating the rules of Austen House that was blue-tacked onto the downstairs' toilet door that had been insisted on after the fifth argument caused between the six girls last year. It had been debated on, agreed, and then they all signed it as if it was a contract.

After Ellen neatly wrote out every rule (with Emma writing commentary between each rule much to everyone's amusement) Emma had stuck it on a large piece of pink sugar paper and sprinkled glitter on the corners to make it look somewhat pretty.

"You'll need to read through the rules and agree to them," Emma said as she led Cathy up the stairs, "there's nothing that compromises you or anything just things like chores and cooking one night a week."

"I'm not very good at cooking," Cathy said nervously.

"That's all right, we'll eat anything," Emma grinned. She opened the first door by the stairs allowing Cathy to see the spotless bathroom. "This is the only bathroom apart from the downstairs loo; if you have a morning class I advise you to shower at night otherwise it'll get rather hectic. You also have to clean up after yourself, one of the rules; otherwise we tend to find the plug clogged up and the toilet in a disgusting state."

"Of course, no problem," Cathy nodded. Emma closed the door and made her way down the corridor past three of the girls' bedrooms and was about to go up the stairs when Cathy piped up excitedly, "Oh my God! Are you a Doctor Who fan?!"

Emma turned round to see Cathy admiring the poster on one of the bedroom doors. "I like it enough but I'm not a big Sci-Fi fan, Ellen Dashwood however is, and that's her room. You'll like Ellen very much; she's the nicest person I know."

"I think I know her. She was a Peer Guide last year wasn't she?" Cathy asked screwing her face up as she attempted to remember something.

"Yeah she was," Emma grimaced. She too had been a Peer Guide and got herself roped in a drinking contest by her Freshers which led to Ellen not only taking care of her group as well as her own but taking care of Emma who was never an easy drunk to deal with.

She was asked not to rejoin the programme by the end of the week.

Emma quickly changed the topic by climbing the stairs and opening the first door on the right. "And this is your bedroom, it's not much, but it's warm and clean," she said.

"Oh it's perfect! I love it! Thank you so much!" Cathy suddenly flung her arms round Emma's neck and held on tightly. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Emma laughed as she hugged back, "no thank you Cathy, you just saved the day for us." Something in the back of her mind suddenly reared its head into the forefront of her thoughts – _Cathy only had one suitcase_! "Cathy...do you have any bedding?"

"Oh! I left all my things in storage last May, I can fetch it tomorrow morning but I don't suppose you have a sleeping bag?" Cathy babbled.

"Yes but you won't be using it because George will take you to the storage right away and help you bring your things back here."

"_George_ bloody well won't do that," George said suddenly from the bottom of the stuff. He immediately dropped two heavy bags and let go of a suitcase causing all three to hit the floor with a loud thump. "George has just been struggling to carry all of Emma's things up the stairs out of their very old friendship which will suffer a quick death if Emma keeps acting like George is her _slave_."

"Oh don't be dramatic George!" Emma snapped. "I know you've been doing me a huge favour but this one last thing isn't even for me it's for Cathy. You don't want poor Cathy to sleep in a sleeping bag and be without her things. Just this one more thing and you can go to bed if you wish!"

Emma looked down at him with a pleading look. She always knew that when she looked at him like that he gives in eventually and from the corner of her eye she can see Cathy giving the most adorable puppy eyes she had ever seen. Her large wide brown eyes were almost tearful!

George sighed, "oh all right," he said, "come along then Cathy let's get your things." As Cathy and Emma joined him on the first floor he muttered darkly under his breath to Emma, "but this is the last time you can ever ask me a favour."

She just smiled at him pleasantly. George had always said that and he always ended up doing her another favour. He could never say no to her and they both knew it.

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George lived in a small flat hidden by several pubs and shops close by the university's campus. Emma hated the cramp space and the lack of colour in it when she first visited him and the second time she came armed with posters and blue tack making his flat look even worse in his opinion.

It was a two bedroom flat with a reasonable sized living room and probably the smallest kitchen in all of London. After carrying heavy boxes and bags and suitcases for the girls George wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and never wake up again. He had been expecting to come home to a dark and slightly musky smell and was rather surprised to see one of the bedroom lights on and have air freshener hit his nostrils.

"Darcy?" he called out. "You're back early."

"So are you," his flatmate drawled out as he stepped into the hallway.

Darcy Fitzwilliam would make any man feel inferior. He would also make most people rather angry very quickly. George was one of the few people in the world that Darcy allowed to see the softer side of him, the cold, unfeeling, and stoic attitude he had often irritated people, Lizzie was a prime example, but George had never stopped being civil nor had he pushed Darcy into opening up to him. They had met years and years ago and only now has George felt he could safely call Darcy his friend.

"Emma only just found out Taylor isn't returning this year and dragged me into a search for a new housemate," George shrugged. "I couldn't be asked with the drive back to Highbury and decided to crash here for the night. You?"

"Gigi and I had a fight," Darcy muttered. "I sent her to our uncle's in France before school started up again. I've been here for two weeks."

"Ah," George said, "want a pint and talk about it?"

"No," Darcy said. They stood there for a couple silent minutes, not awkward ones, just peaceful as George waited for more. Darcy always had a little more to say and if you waited long enough he would say it. "Since Emma has returned," Darcy started up again his pale cheeks turning a faint pink, "would that mean we shall expect Lizzie to return soon?"

"Tomorrow or maybe the day after, I'm not quite sure," George said trying to not smirk. Darcy had been smitten with Lizzie since her first year and had purposely remained in education to spend more time with her. "I am sure Emma will be inviting us for a night out once all the girls are back anyway."

"Yeah..." Darcy muttered as he turned pinker, "well good night George."

"Night Darcy," George replied.

He made his way into his bedroom and was rather chuffed to find that Darcy had made his bed for him. After undressing George collapsed into bed and instantly fell into a deep dream about Emma.

It wasn't fair really. If she wasn't pestering him in the day she would be haunting him in his sleep.

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Kitty and Lydia were fighting again while Mary was refusing to leave behind her piano and her mother was screaming at all three of them.

Lizzie was just trying to get her suitcase into the car while making an attempt to ignore all the screaming and shouting.

She had spent the night cuddled with Jane like they always did when they were small girls and shared a private goodbye before Jane sleepily headed to work the morning shift at the cafe. Her father had fixed her an early breakfast as they shared their own goodbye before he rushed off to work as well. By the time her mother woke up Lizzie was more than ready _to just go_ already.

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO PRACTISE YOU ARE GOING TO THE TRAIN STATION TO SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR SISTER MARY PATIENCE BENNETT! AND YOU TWO STOP SHOUTING AT ONE ANOTHER BEFORE I BANG YOUR HEADS TOGETHER! GET IN THE CAR _NOW_!"

Lizzie groaned as the people across the road began to peer over their hedges to see what exactly is going on. Couldn't her mother be one of those mothers who scold in a quiet and deadly voice instead of outright screaming like a regular Mrs Weasley? She hoped with all her heart that she will be able to secure herself a job and home in London by the time she graduates she couldn't stand the idea of staying home with her mother's screaming, Mary's pounding on the piano, the Twins arguing, and the lack of any backup from her father and Jane.

The front door opened and Mary stormed out with her headphones firmly in and the Twins stumbled out glaring at one another as her mother followed with a determined march and her face bright red.

The car journey seemed painfully long for the ten minute drive and Lizzie was grateful to leap out of the car and rush to pull out her suitcase from the boot. Mary continued to ignore the world as she listened to what was likely to be classical music instead of the ordinary rock or pop teenagers would listen when sulking. The Twins were mimicking their mother in dramatic goodbyes as they clung to either side of Lizzie sobbing.

"Why must you always leave us?" Lydia wailed.

"You will write, won't you Lizzie?" Katherine sniffled.

"Like you know how to read," Mary muttered darkly. Obviously her music wasn't loud enough to drown out her younger sisters' dramatics.

"I need my education, I will be back for the Christmas holidays, and yes I'll send you lovely long emails about everything I do, now please let go of me girls I have a train to catch."

With another bone breaking hug from both of her youngest sisters Lizzie accepted a very quick hug from Mary as she quickly mumbled, "I'll miss you too, Liz," before she pulled back and was pushed aside by her mother.

Lizzie was suddenly blinded by her mother's bosom as she held Lizzie close and stroked her hair like she used to when Lizzie was a child and sick. "Oh my baby girl," she murmured, "I will miss you. Call me every week and let us know when graduation is so I can force your father to take some time off. Oh I can't believe it, first of my children in university and she's about to graduate," she let go of Lizzie and brushed down her clothes ensuring Lizzie looked neat and tidy, "eat healthily, don't drink too much, never do drugs, practice safe sex, and bring back a handsome boyfriend!"

"Mum!" Lizzie cried out in embarrassment.

Her mother did this every single time she went away since she was sixteen years old. It had never stopped being so embarrassing. With another quick hug from her tearful mother Lizzie escaped onto the train that arrived in time to save her from more embarrassment. It was a struggle to find the seat she reserved but soon enough she spotted a familiar bob of red hair and grinned.

"Hello gorgeous," she said loudly, "is this seat available?"

The redhead beamed back, "only for you beautiful," she replied.

As Lizzie sat down she swore she heard the elderly lady sitting opposite them tut about 'girls these days are never satisfied with men'. She turned to face her friend and suddenly laughed alongside her. "How was your summer, Ellen?" Lizzie asked once they stopped laughing. Her face ached it she had laughed for so long.

"It's been all right," Ellen shrugged, "how was yours?"

"Noisy as always," Lizzie replied dryly.

"Glad to be going home?" Ellen asked.

"Yes," Lizzie said pleased to know she wasn't the only one who thought Austen House was home, "also I really just want to see how many grey hairs Emma managed to give George over the summer."

She and Ellen shared another look before bursting into laughter. They enjoyed disapproving looks from various pensioners throughout the journey back to London.

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Fanny was hurt and angry.

The plan had been that Tom and Edmund would drive Fanny down to London in order to have a 'proper road trip like the movies' as Tom put it. Personally Fanny was looking forwards to pretending to fall asleep halfway through the journey and rest her head on Edmund's shoulder. Even though it would have been impossible of them sitting in back together since Tom hates being alone and would have demanded one of them to sit with him. It was a nice fantasy though and she was going to be in a small space with the man of her dreams nonetheless.

And then Molly Crawford came along.

She had been around in general over the summer. Fanny had only met her twice and hadn't really thought about it much since she spent more time clubbing in town with Tom than with Edmund who preferred reading, visiting museums, and watching Father Ted re-runs over the weekend. Then apparently as Fanny and Tom put their things into the car Edmund had agreed a few days ago to take Molly on a bike ride round the countryside.

"You don't mind, do you Fanny?" he asked looking all angelic, sweet, and clueless.

"No," she mumbled, as she tried not to show how she truly felt, "you and Molly have fun."

"Thank you Fanny," Edmund said pressing his lips on to her cheek. Just for a moment, the briefest touch, and her heart went wild. It halted to a stop the second he pulled away leaving her wanting more. "You are a star. Have a good year at University, and I promise to keep in touch."

And now she was stuck in a car with Tom who was terrifying her with his lax driving skills and very loud rock music. That, and Tom always wanted to be entertained and that meant she had to play several games and sing several songs on his demand.

"The look on your face, Fan," Tom laughed after he forced her to sing, "You look like that you're thinking God will smite you where you're sitting 'cause you sang We Will Rock You."

"If he doesn't he certainly will for the swearing you caused," Fanny squeaked as Tom barely missed hitting the car in front. "And if that doesn't we're certainly going to die before we get into London!"

"Nonsense!" Tom grinned. "You're safe with me, Fanny; I would never let you get hurt in a million years. You're my Number One Fan, my girl, my babe, and we are going to rock London when we get there."

Tom was trying to get a degree again. He had failed out of two universities, Oxford much to his father's horror with his attempt to do a Politics degree, and then Manchester much to everyone's horror with him not even bothering to attend his Psychology classes. Now he was going to study Music at the same university as Fanny and she was under strict orders to ensure he would actually pass First Year this time round.

Fanny heaved a sigh and prayed that God would give her strength to live through this nightmare of a car journey.

And that Edmund will send her a text soon, of course.

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No one said goodbye to Anne.

When she got back home with enough food to last her family two weeks already her father had gone for his chest waxing appointment followed with sometime in the bookies, and her youngest sister had gone to the hair salon for her weekly beauty treatment. Her older sister never bothers to leave the house to even spend time with Anne when she is here let alone come out and see her off when she was leaving for three months.

She ate lunch on her own and ensured the house was spotless before locking up.

Her aunt was waiting for her in the car with a determined look.

Anne heaved a sigh, she knew that the next two hours will be filled with encouragement for her to join her aunt's publishing business and give up the dream to write children's books.

She knew she should have never announced she wanted to be a children's author last month.

It was too late now her aunt was going to ruin her career dreams just as she had ruined her love life.

And Anne was going to let her, as always.

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Ellen and Lizzie had decided to walk from the train station to the house.

It was cheaper than getting a taxi or the bus and it had given them the excuse to catch up properly. A walk from the station and where they live was a good forty minutes it stretched out into two hours as they stopped for lunch and then a Costa Coffee which both had missed very much over the summer. By the time they got there Fanny had beaten them by five minutes clutching her chest and breathing in deeply.

"Fanny, what on earth happened to you?" Lizzie asked as Ellen wrapped a comforting arm round the terrified girl's shoulders.

"We almost crashed into a bus!" Fanny cried out in horror.

"Nah, there was no way we could have hit it," Tom said lighting up a cigarette. "You worry too much Fan."

"How long have you had your licence Tom?" Lizzie asked shrewdly. She had met Tom Bertram once before and the only reason she has not mistaken him for Edmund was down to the fact Fanny has several pictures of Edmund in her room.

"All summer," Tom shrugged.

"Then I wouldn't exactly call you an expert on driving, would I?" Lizzie sneered. "So I think Fanny has the right to worry just a little for her own safety."

"Lizzie," Ellen chided gently, "Let's just focus on getting Fanny seated with a hot drink and our things back in our rooms, shall we?"

Before Lizzie could make a reply, which was likely to have been snarky and witty as always, an expensive car parked behind Tom's and Anne was quick to jump out of it. "Ellen! Lizzie! Fanny!" she cried out gleefully before rushing to embrace each one of them. "Oh I have missed you!"

Behind them the front door opened and Emma came running out to greet them all. "Oh I have missed you all!" she cried out as she hugged Fanny tightly before moving towards Lizzie with a grin.

As Ellen pulled away from Anne she noticed a girl hovering at the door watching them nervously. "Do you have something to tell us, Emma?" she asked.

"Oh yes, Taylor has left us now she's married," Emma said with a little annoyance, "who knew having a husband meant she had to go back on her tenancy contract?" Lizzie and Ellen raised their eyebrows at one another. They had suspicions about this since Taylor announced the date of her wedding last January. "Anyway this is Cathy Moreland. She's a Second Year English Literature student and she will be living with us this year. Cathy come down and meet Lizzie Bennett, Ellen Dashwood, Anne Elliot, and Fanny Price."

Ellen was the first to shake Cathy's hand, she smiled warmly at the nervous girl, and said softly, "Welcome home Cathy, I am sure we will be great friends."

The other girls shared equally warm looks at one another sharing a similar thought.

They were home again and they now have a new friend who is likely to become part of their little family.

**Author's Note: sorry for the slow update I had been rather busy with many things, mostly packing so I can go back to my house at Uni as well. In fact I just finished this on my second day back at the house where I just spent ages doing shopping for food, unpacking, and getting books out the library for my dissertation research. Anyway another update should be out eventually in a week or two and in the meantime it would do me a great honour for you all to review XD**


	3. Chapter 2: Introducing a Hero or Two

_...A very gentlemanlike young man as a partner; his name was Tilney. He seemed to be about four or five and twenty, was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance, a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, was very near it. – Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. _

Cathy woke up with a smile on her face.

She had such a lovely time last night! Emma brought lots and lots of Chinese food for dinner and they all sat on the floor cross-legged playing a game of sorts so she could learn everything about her new housemates.

Now she knew that Emma was studying English Literature, was insanely rich and had one other sister but five nephews and nieces, her favourite colour was pink, and she was the president of the drama society in university.

She knew that Elizabeth Bennett (who really preferred Lizzie) was also an English Literature student who planned to further her education so she could educate the minds of young people one day about the wonders of Shakespeare, Milton, and Marlowe, that she had four sisters, wasn't very well off, her favourite colour was green, and she was part of several different organisations.

She learnt that Ellen was the eldest of three girls and studied Journalism with English Literature, her hopes was to be a reporter but she enjoyed fiction too much to give it up, she learnt Ellen had a 'complicated' background that led her to a poorer state of life, and she adored green as well but her favourite colour had to be TARDIS blue (Cathy remembered the scoffs from Emma and Lizzie as she enthused over Doctor Who with Ellen). Ellen worked at Tesco but she had a membership to the drama society and an active role in the university's newspaper.

She learnt that Fanny Price was the only one who didn't study English Literature in any shape or form but adored reading nonetheless. Fanny was going to be a primary school teacher, she was an orphan raised by her godparents but she had one brother who she hadn't seen in a while, she was very poor if it wasn't for the support she received from her godparents, and her favourite colour was yellow. Also she was the only one in the house who had religious beliefs and went to church weekly as well as being part of the Christian Union.

Anne Elliot was a bit of a puzzle. Like Fanny she was shy and Cathy had to lean forwards to hear Anne mumble some of her replies but from what she understood Anne was another English Literature student, she had two sisters, was very rich like Emma, and liked the colour red. She didn't say a word about being part of any of the clubs or anything else apart from a whispered request to pass the spring rolls.

Cathy learnt lots and lots of other things as well about her new friends but she felt these were the most important things to remember at this moment of time. Well that and the fact they had all met in the only all girls residence the university had to offer which they were all living in for various different reasons.

After eating Chinese leftovers for breakfast with a cheerful Ellen and Emma; Cathy found herself being dragged out to do the grocery shopping.

"Everyone chips in a twenty every two weeks," Emma explained as she pulled out a purse from a drawer, "and adds what they want to the list. At least three of us will go shopping and get everything and the change is equally divided between the six of us."

"But what you want has to be in reason," Ellen warned, "and you have to be prepared to have the store brand rather than the actual brand."

"That sounds fair to me," Cathy said happily, "I have always eaten store brand. It's the cheapest way to shop."

"Emma where did you find this lovely gem?" Ellen asked as she slipped her arm through Cathy's.

Cathy flushed at the compliment. She had never been referred to as a gem or even as lovely. She was always 'good enough' according to her parents but then she had _so_ many siblings that her parents have probably forgotten which one she is.

"I was born under a lucky star obviously," Emma said with a grin as she took Cathy's other arm, "Or perhaps it was fate who led me to her? Or maybe it is all just a coincidence? Who knows?"

"It must have been destiny," Cathy said firmly, "an angel or someone up there must have known I would have needed you and guided me to you."

Emma gave Cathy a very wicked mischievous grin. Her eyes twinkled brilliantly and Cathy felt instantly drawn into whatever conspiracy Emma had planned. "I dare you to say that to George," Emma said gleefully, "he really hates that stuff."

"_Emma_," Ellen chided with an eye roll, "stop tormenting poor George."

"Poor George, my foot," Emma replied merrily, "he is just as bad. Don't let his good manners fool you Ellen, you're supposed to be the sensible one, George gives back just as good as he takes."

Emma had then proceeded to spend the whole thirty minute walk to Tesco regaling stories of her childhood where George played pranks on her. It went from extreme pranks of putting a frog in her bed to a small April Fools where he had convinced her he was dying. In all fairness though they were actually responses to Emma's own teasing and little pranks as Ellen was very quick to point out to a giggling Cathy. They had wandered down the aisles together for a while but then Emma had declared it would be far quicker if they separated and grabbed things they needed, Emma rushed off to get the pasta and sauces Ellen asked while Cathy was sent to get the cereal as Ellen roamed round the shop with the trolley keeping an eye out for other things they needed.

Cathy only had one thing to do, _one bloody thing_, and she was already failing at it. Oh how would wickedly devious Emma and sensibly practical Ellen would take to silly, foolish Cathy being unable to do one _single_ thing? She would go from being a lovely gem to a weight round their necks! She had to get four different boxes of cereal and while the three were easy the fourth one seemed to be on the highest shelf in all of Tesco! It wasn't like she was _short_ or anything, she was perfectly medium height, it's just this shelf was gigantic! She struggled to keep hold of her three boxes and jump high enough to grab the fourth box. She must look like some sort of little yappy dog right now!

She took one more leap when suddenly two of the boxes slid out from under her arm and her foot slipped on one of them. Her head banged hard on the floor and all she could see was lights dancing before her eyes, was she in heaven? God that's an embarrassing way to go, death by cereal in Tesco of all places.

The most handsome face suddenly appeared before her. He must be an angel...she must definitely be dead then! Oh would her family ever live down the shame of her dying thanks to a cereal box?

"Here," he said in a beautiful baritone voice.

He held out his hand to her, and she accepted it, it was a very nice hand, radiating warmth and strength as he firmly held her hand which was dainty in comparison and then hauled her up off the floor.

"Thank you," she managed to squeak out still in awe of his beautiful face.

He said nothing at first. He turned away and then pulled down the box of cereal she wanted and handed it to her. "You're welcome," he said cheerfully.

And then he smiled at her.

Her next thank you died on her lips as she instantly fell in love with this wonderful stranger.

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Fred Wentworth was not amused.

It was one of those very rare days off when apart from border patrol there was very little to do. Those sort of days were usually spent enjoying a cold beer in the hot sun and playing a few card games with the lads or writing an email home to his sister, or even just laying in bed and trying to picture those sparkling dark eyes of wonder...

Today his fellow comrades had a far different idea of what to do and Fred did not like it one single bit!

"C'mon, lighten up," McKinley said, "It's a lark and something to do."

"Yeah and something to scandalise the press with," Jefferson grinned.

"It is childish and pointless," Fred said coolly, "whatever the prince gets up to in his free time shouldn't have any effect on us real soldiers."

"Oooh!" the lads chorused.

"Wentworth thinks he's better than royalty, huh?" Brown said loudly. "Thinks he's above a bit of childish fun?"

"Sir," Fred turned and pleaded with his only superior in the group, "Surely you agree that this is a waste of time?"

Colonel Brandon grinned down at Fred with an ease that Fred envied. The man was everything a military man is meant to be and yet managed to keep a level of warmth, calm, and contentment that no other soldier could in the battlefield.

"Of course it's a waste of time, Captain," Brandon replied easily, "but it is everyone's day off here and they can do what they like. You, however, need to lighten up just a little and therefore I _order_ you to join in."

Fred attempted to splutter an excuse. It wasn't really setting an example, it was not their duty to take naked photos of themselves, it was not honourable, why should it matter what the royal family does, and really it isn't safe to be naked in the hot sun without the proper protection. But then Colonel Brandon was the most honourable men Fred had the honour of meeting and he always advocated men to do their duty as a soldier of the Royal British Army, and then they were going to die any day on the battlefield at any given chance what harm was a little sun on your skin? And then the last and perhaps that final proverb nail in his coffin, was it not his duty to protect, care, and represent the royal family?

With a sigh Fred began to unbutton his shirt while he would prefer to keep his modesty it was a lot better than what he originally planned to do with his day.

Though in the back of his mind he still thought of those enchanting dark eyes and he wondered if she would ever see this photo and blush that same blush when she first saw him shirtless.

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Emma Woodhouse was scheming again.

She couldn't help it! One moment she and Ellen were worried Cathy somehow got lost in Tesco or worse managed to fall into the freezers and was dying of hypothermia (there was something very delicate, sweet, and endearing about Cathy that made Emma want to wrap her up in cotton wool) and then the next they stumbled on the most love-struck girl in all of England! There she stood looking up at a tall young man with a dreamy expression that Emma hoped no one would ever see on her face.

He introduced himself as Harry Tilney and then declared himself as Cathy's protector from cereal boxes. When Cathy explained about her trip and how he helped her out both Emma and Ellen were quite insistent that she should go to the walk in centre to get herself checked out. They were on the verge of abandoning their shopping and rushing off to the nearest hospital when Harry reassured them that he has enough first aid knowledge to declare Cathy concussion free. He then followed them round the shop, helped them pack their bags, and insisted on giving them a ride back to Austen House.

Throughout the entire time he only had eyes for Cathy and rarely spoke to either Ellen or Emma. Cathy was in a similar state of obliviousness and Emma decided right then and there she had a love match to make.

If only she remembered where she heard the name Harry Tilney from! Then she could invite him to a party of some sort, she would have to find an excuse it was almost a month away till the next birthday, and then with the right music, conversation, and some alcoholic influence she would have no doubt they would be a couple in no time!

Fortunately in the kitchen as Ellen, Lizzie, and Cathy were unpacking, Anne was hunting for lunch, and Fanny was doing some work on the table, Emma had her chance to bring up the charming Harry Tilney.

"Do any of you know a Harry Tilney?" she asked bluntly ignoring Cathy's sudden outburst of choked coughing. "I just met him this morning and he seems remarkably familiar but I can't remember for the life of me where I met him."

"He's a friend of mine," Fanny said quietly looking up from her work, "Harry Tilney goes to the same church as me, remember? He is also a member of the Christian Union and studies Religion and Theology at a doctorate level."

"Does he now?" Emma said neutrally, she glanced at the rather still Cathy who had her head tilted in one angle as if it would allow her to hear better than any other angle. "Perhaps we should go to church together this week, what do you say Cathy?"

As Cathy stammered out an attempt of a response Lizzie whirled round and replied instead, "What matchmaking are you up to now, Emma?" she asked.

"Cathy was very smitten with young Mr Tilney, weren't you darling?" Emma said, Cathy flushed a bright red and mumbled something. "And if I am not mistaken Harry Tilney was equally taken by our beautiful bright Cathy Moreland. I will make it so they would have many happy years together."

"Oh god!" Cathy moaned flushing a brighter red.

"Emma, have we not agreed that matchmaking is not always the best way to go about things?" Lizzie asked never once taking her eyes off Emma.

"Emma," Anne said timidly, "just because you were successful in matchmaking Taylor does _not _mean you must matchmake all of our lives."

"Nonsense, the pair of you are worrying over nothing," Emma said cheerfully, "I will have Harry Tilney ask Cathy out by the end of the semester, and then I shall work on Lizzie and Darcy-"

"Ha!" Lizzie barked out. "It will be a cold day in hell before I even think of him romantically."

"And I already have plans for Fanny," Emma continued as if Lizzie had never spoken, "I just need to find someone wonderful for you Anne, and someone who will take care of you, Ellen, and then my work is done."

"I don't need anyone, Emma," Ellen said patiently, "and I think it's best if you allow us to sort out our own love lives. You just work on yours and I'll cook dinner tonight."

"Oh darling," Emma laughed, "where on earth would I find my own love life? There is simply no one out there for me; I shall just be a delighted spinster godmother to all of your children."

There was a strange exchange of looks between her friends. Emma could not quite put her finger on it but she was sure there was something she had said that they didn't agree with. Perhaps they will make an attempt to matchmake her for a change, she doubt they shall be as good as it as she was. After all she was the expert in love despite her little experience and she knew exactly what sort of men would be right for her girls.

Now...how exactly to get Darcy and Lizzie in a room together without Lizzie murdering her?

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Two days later and Cathy was so very bored!

Ellen has disappeared to work for hours on end, Fanny was too busy making lesson plans for her classes, Anne, Lizzie, and Emma were busy doing research, and Cathy has yet to hear from Isabella or any of her other friends here in London. Cathy suppose she really should go out and hand in CVs all over the place for a job but she really couldn't bring herself to look at her woefully short CV that reminded her just how pathetic she really is. She was also now running out of things to do to distract herself, there was nothing on TV to watch apart from reruns of things she's already seen, there was no new manga updates for her to squeal over, she was bored of re-watching anime on her dying laptop, and she had read her books a hundred times before and couldn't get interested in them again. She had no money to go out with and no one to visit.

She was going to die of boredom. Oh lord that will be her epitaph! _Here Lies Catherine Laura Moreland, she was so unproductive that she died of boredom_. Her parents would so put that on her gravestone and forever humiliate her!

"Cathy?"

Cathy opened her eyes to see Lizzie standing at the doorway. Lizzie was so beautiful that if she wasn't so nice Cathy would hate her out of jealousy. Her dark curls that Cathy would kill for was trying to escape from her hair scrunchie and framed her pretty heart shaped face where her beautifully dark eyes were staring straight at Cathy much to her discomfort. She also had lovely glossy dark eyebrows one of which was raised perfectly in an arch.

"What on earth are you doing?" Lizzie asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm bored," Cathy mumbled embarrassed at her own explanation.

"So you just decided to...what, fall off the sofa?"

Cathy's head was on the floor and her feet were resting on the top of the sofa."I'm not quite sure what happened," Cathy confessed with a blush, "I was counting the cracks on the ceiling."

"There isn't any cracks on the ceilings."

"Imaginary cracks then."

"I'm going to go to the library, why don't you come with me? I need to get some books out for my dissertation and I could use a pair of strong arms to help carry them back home, I'll buy you a coffee on the way back as a treat."

Cathy just tried to be athletic and do a flip back onto her feet like a graceful cat. Instead she instantly fell back onto her bottom and looked like a clumsy fool. "I'll do anything if it means I can get out of the house," Cathy said sheepishly as she rubbed her sore backside.

Lizzie's eyes glittered in amusement but much to Cathy's gratitude she didn't laugh at her. Instead she chatted at long length with Cathy about her favourite books and plays, all the girls in Austen House enjoyed the theatre which was a god send to Cathy who had to go to one at least every three months. Lizzie promised with much amusement at Cathy's enthusiasm that they will all go to the theatre once their loan money has come through though not the West End much to Cathy's disappointment. Once they entered the university's library, which Cathy adored for its giant gothic bookcases filled to the brim with dusty old books from centuries ago to last year, Lizzie began examining books on her chosen topic and placing them in Cathy's out stretched arms. After what seemed to be hundreds of books they were just about to go to the counter when Lizzie let out a loud gasp.

"Get behind here!" she hissed as she pulled Cathy harshly behind the bookcase.

Cathy turned to see perhaps _the most_ gorgeous man she had ever seen! She was not exaggerating, his face seemed to have been carved out of marble by the likes of Michelangelo, his eyes were blazing jewels, and his hair fell perfectly like so. If it was not for the fact her heart was long ago taken by someone else a few days ago she might have considered throwing herself at this perfect human being.

The perfect human being sat down at the table opposite the bookcase Cathy and Lizzie were hiding behind and pulled out his laptop. Cathy watched for a while as he prepared to start working, his laptop was the expensive kind far superior to Cathy's second hand junk, his clothes were also expensively tailored to perfection making Cathy feel very shabby in her Primark gear, and then lastly he sat up straight not slouching for a second or even fidgeting! Cathy could never sit like that without suddenly having an itch or a need to slouch down and take a closer look at the wonderfully written words in her books.

"Arsehole," Lizzie muttered darkly.

"Do you know him?" Cathy whispered wondering how Lizzie could have met this personification of perfection.

"Yeah unfortunately," Lizzie mumbled back, "he's an arrogant prick and keeps appearing wherever I go. It's like he's stalking me or something!"

"OH!" Cathy cried out with joy. Lizzie suddenly slapped her hand over Cathy's mouth, through the books Cathy could see the gorgeous man look around in confusion; Lizzie then put a finger on her lips before releasing Cathy again. "He's that Darcy guy Emma wants to matchmake you with, isn't he?" Cathy whispered excitedly. "Oh how could you not want him? Not only is he gorgeous but he's obviously besotted with you!"

"How many trashy romances have you read?" Lizzie raised an eyebrow coolly. "Because this isn't a piece of fiction, Cathy, this is my life and trust me that git has no romantic interest in me. The only interest he has is to make my life a living nightmare and I won't give him another chance to ridicule me."

"Basic playground tactics," Cathy shrugged, "he likes you."

"You need to stop spending time with Emma, obviously her matchmaking has infected you," Lizzie hissed. Cathy blushed. She couldn't help being the senseless romantic she had just stumbled into such a beautiful clichéd love/hate relationship and she wanted Lizzie to have her happy ending. Instead she made a movement to stand up when Lizzie pulled her down onto the floor again. "We can't go out there!" she whispered harshly. "He'll see us and start making comments. Let's just sit him out and wait for him to leave."

"But surely it wouldn't matter what he says?" Cathy whispered urgently.

She really, really, _really_ needed the loo all of the sudden.

"I don't want him to see me!" Lizzie snapped in a whisper. "Just sit it out."

Cathy puffed out a small sigh and picked up the nearest book to read.

And to think her mother said _Cathy_ was the world's biggest drama queen.


	4. Chapter 3: The Art of Avoiding Darcy

_Rule Number 5: every Sunday night when possible (if no one is away visiting family) there will be a girl's night where we watch at least one TV drama and eat lots of ice cream.  
_**And it must be Ben and Jerry's! Damn the cost I'll pay for it if I must! - **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse. **_

Lizzie was certain that Darcy was stalking her.

After the Library Incident, where she and Cathy had been stuck for six hours behind a bookcase till Darcy finally left (Cathy still moans about that), Lizzie has been spotting him everywhere. When she goes out for a coffee he is there, when she goes to the library he is there, when she goes to a pub or a shop or to the cinema, he is _always _there! She had managed to avoid him so far but this was becoming a nuisance.

To top it off none of her friends are sympathetic to her plight. Emma the traitor actually likes Darcy and keeps dropping hints that so does Lizzie, Ellen thinks she's being childish, Cathy has yet to forgive her for the six hour wait to the bathroom, Fanny has never understood why Lizzie doesn't like the arrogant stuck up prat, and Anne...well Anne has never expressed an opinion on Darcy and was willing to listen whenever Lizzie wanted to moan about him.

But even Anne had only so much patience and she was obviously getting fed up listening to Lizzie moan about Darcy as Lizzie was sick of seeing him.

Just before Fresher's week the girls went out for breakfast at their favourite greasy spoon before it got clogged up by hung over Freshers every morning. Lizzie was just to bite into her breakfast bin lid when the door open and Darcy stepped through.

She dived under the table and left her deliciously greasy meal on the plate behind her. She then proceeded to wait forever as George came through behind Darcy and immediately made a beeline to Emma.

Jesus those two could talk the rest of their lives away! More importantly they can talk the rest of Lizzie's life away!

She sat there scrunched up and uncomfortable on the girls' feet as Darcy greeted them in his cool, cold, measured tone, and introduced himself to Cathy.

"Oh I know you!" Cathy burst out. "Aren't you the guy that- Argh!"

Lizzie quickly pinched Cathy's leg before she accidentally revealed the amount of time they had spent hiding from him in the library. Or all the teasing Emma does on what a perfect couple she and Darcy would make. Either would make Lizzie's life a living nightmare.

Ellen swiftly kicked her causing her to bite her tongue so she wouldn't yelp. Just at that moment Darcy asked, "Where is Elizabeth?"

She rolled her eyes, honestly why does that man refuse to call her by her chosen name? Not even her parents call her Elizabeth.

"Oh...erm...she's gone to the bathroom," Emma lied.

"_Really?" _George asked sceptically.

Damn Emma and her inability to lie to George! God why does Emma have to be so...so...so..._blonde_? Couldn't she just wake up and smell the coffee and realise she's in love with George and vice versa? Then she could be so loved up that she won't annoy Lizzie and George would be too lovey dovey for Darcy's taste and then Darcy will no longer have an excuse to stalk her! She could be free! And Emma will be happy, of course, an extra bonus.

Instead Emma and George were stuck in oblivious land and the two guys stayed there talking to the girls far longer than necessary. By the time Lizzie was able to get back on the table with dignity (later Emma would snort and scathingly ask, "What dignity?") her breakfast had become stone cold.

Another crime to add to Darcy's ever growing list of offenses.

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Fanny was finding it difficult to pay attention to the sermon.

Usually when she was in Church she would always find it easy to focus on her spiritual needs. It had always been her way of escaping the difficulties of life since she was a small child. But lately she had been finding it difficult. At first it had simply been because she was worried about Cathy. She has nothing against Cathy wanting to find God and spiritual peace but she knew Cathy's only motive for going to Church was to see Harry Tilney.

Fanny couldn't bear the thought of betraying God by bringing a non-believer in so she could flirt with a man. She kept thinking God would strike her down the moment the sermon was finished but whenever she peered at Cathy from the corner of her eye she was surprised to discover Cathy was focused on the sermon and was more devoted to prayer than to making eyes at Harry.

It was afterwards at the usual coffee group that Cathy confessed she was a daughter of a priest and had only fell out of going to Church because she was no longer in the comfort of her vicarage.

Harry who had dreams of becoming a vicar one day was quick to question her on her father's job (and so he had another reason to hang on every word Cathy spoke with a besotted expression on his face) and Fanny listened in so she could pass the information to Edmund.

Edmund.

That was the reason behind her lack of focus this week. It had been three weeks since she left Mansfield and settled back into London, she had been busy enough with research, planning, praying, and spending time with the girls in general, but she had enough time to write her weekly emails to Edmund.

Edmund has nothing to do apart from the usual studies and leisure, and yet he has not had the time to reply to her.

There had been no lovingly written email admiring her busy schedule and praising her for keeping focus on her work. There had been no quick text in the morning asking if she was all right. There had been no phone call because he had missed the sound of her voice and the way she laughs.

Every sweet little way of communicating with her that he performed in the last two years had suddenly died a quick death in the last three weeks.

It had her worried, what on earth could possibly have happened to Edmund to cause him unable to type on his computer?

"Let's pray," Father O'Donnell's voice echoed throughout the room.

Fanny shook her head trying to refocus on her spiritual needs and not her selfish wants as everyone bent their heads down in pray. She clasped her clammy cold hands together and pressed her lips on top of them as she mouthed the Lord's Prayer.

Her mind however was loudly praying on its own. _Dear Lord, I know it is selfish to ask, but I beg of you, motivate Edmund into replying to me. Just one sentence, one little word, to let me know if he's okay...to let me know what on earth he could be up to right now. _

She yearned for nothing more than to hear Edmund's voice right now.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Lizzie and Emma were doing the food shop with Anne and Fanny. The latter two had gone off to grab some of the basic needs while Lizzie and Emma slowly made their way up and down the frozen food section picking out all the bargains and getting some much needed ice cream. Emma had just turned to look at the various pies when Lizzie suddenly grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her down onto the floor.

Their trolley went rolling down the aisle carrying their delicious Ben and Jerry's away. Emma would have sobbed out in despair if Lizzie hadn't suddenly hissed in her ear. "Darcy is about to come over we need to get out of here!"

"You have _got _to be kidding me," Emma muttered through gritted teeth, "What on earth did he do to make you go to these extreme lengths?"

"Now's not the time!" Lizzie whispered harshly as she started to crawl after the trolley. "Just keep moving before they come over here."

"_They?_" Emma repeated. "Who's the-"

"Emma," an exasperated voice said behind her, "what on earth are you doing?"

Emma quickly sat up at the sound of George's warm, deep, and completely exasperated voice. She quickly waved away the sudden skip her heart made putting it down to George surprising her and turned to face her best and dearest friend in the whole world. "Erm...Lizzie lost an earring and I was helping her look for it?" she lied.

George raised a disbelieving eyebrow and Emma literally felt herself deflate. How on earth is it that she could blag her way through anything – _anything in the world_ – but she could never lie properly to George?

Curse him for being her oldest friend! He knows all of her tells.

"All right, all right," she cried out, "Lizzie keeps going to extreme lengths to avoid Darcy and this is one of the attempts!"

George raised another disbelieving eyebrow. "Emma you're the only one here. Are you sure you just haven't lost something yourself?"

Emma whirled round to find that Lizzie, the traitorous, backstabbing, little bitch she is, has abandoned Emma to her fate of embarrassment.

Andshe had gone off with the trolley that had all the Ben and Jerry's!

Oh she was so going to get revenge for this.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Cathy loved living in Austen House.

It was as if she was _meant _to be there. That everything she did in her life was leading up to this _point _where she was meant to be friends with these five girls, where she was meant to meet Harry Tilney, and where she was meant to discover who she really is. She can't help but think this was predestined. It was just _so perfect_.

They all liked the same things. Emma always insisted on group activities in the evening so everyone could unwind from their research and Cathy could actually have fun, they would watch movies, have TV marathons, do readings, play board games, occasionally go out for a drink or a trip to the cinema, or have George round and Cathy often found herself in the middle of intrigue as the girls whispered to one another while throwing looks at the very much smitten pair.

Cathy got to talk about Doctor Who with Ellen, discuss religion with Fanny, read romances and her childhood favourites with all of them really but Anne especially, she got to watch all the corny and cheesy romances with Emma, and discuss and enjoy Shakespeare with Lizzie. She also got on well with George who seemed to find her amusing. She wasn't sure why, she's not funny, and she's not witty and clever like the others, so she must be doing something to make him laugh at her.

Normally she would be upset about that but there was something about George that just made it seems like a big brother thing and not a spiteful bully thing.

The bestest best thing was Sunday night where they all huddled up on the sofa or floor together with ice cream, munchies, and drinks, and put on Downton Abbey and enjoy the hour of costume drama. Cathy feels like swooning whenever Mathew comes onto the screen and she knows from Emma's overdramatic swoon onto her lap that the others do too.

This week as another boring and very ridiculous advert came across the screen Emma had turned to Cathy with a persuasive look on her face. Cathy had been trying to ignore her rather persuasive arguments about joining the Drama Club for the last two weeks. So far it had been a success though such a valiant struggle she had to go through for hat success. She was so deadly tempted Emma was virtually dangling Harry Tilney with chocolate cake in front of her it had been that tempting to say yes. She loved theatre and she wanted to be part of the Drama Club but...well...what if she couldn't keep up with her work? What if she failed out of university because she was so caught up in her fun? Oh my god she'll end up stuck working in McDonalds for the rest of her life while her friends go on to be successful people!

"Come on Cathy," she said pleadingly, "you'll love Drama Club. We're going to do As You Like it in at the end of November, and a Panto for the children at Christmas, and then we vote for our next three plays in the New Year. You don't even have to be an actress you could be a technician or a writer or well anything, we do a bit of anything."

"I don't know," Cathy said hesitatingly, "I only joined the Manga and Anime club last year because I wasn't sure if I could manage my workload and do several clubs. I have a feeling that being in the Drama Club will take up too much of my time. And I sort of wanted to join the paper this year, and go to Harry's bible study group."

"You can do all of those things and still be on top of your work," Emma said encouragingly. "after all as long as you do your reading and a little research each week you should have plenty of time for rehearsal, seeing Harry, writing an article or two a month, and enjoy your Manga and Anime. Girls support me on this one."

"Emma's right," Ellen the sensible one said, "I'm editor of the paper and I balance it well enough with my actual job, being active in the Drama Club, and doing my work in time. I have more assignments than you as well."

"I do a bit of everything," Lizzie shrugged, "I don't always try out for the plays and can't be bothered doing anything else apart from occasionally dropping in on its' writers group. But I balance everything out."

"When you're not being ridiculous with ducking under tables to avoid a certain young man called Darcy," Emma muttered.

"Shut up, Emma!"

"So you're all part of the Drama Club?" Cathy asked looking to Anne and Fanny who had been quiet for most of this evening. Fanny kept nervously checking her phone as she had been for the last couple weeks while Anne was generally quiet unless asked a direct question. "Do you two go on the stage?"

"Oh no not me," Anne mumbled with a faint flush on her pale cheeks, "I'm in charge of the writers group. I write all the sketches and fundraiser plays we do. You're welcome to join us if being on the stage doesn't suit you."

"I'm the only female techie," Fanny confessed bright red; "I'm quite good with the lights and sound effects."

"Quite good? _Quite good_?" Emma cried out. "Fanny you're the best out there!" she turned to Cathy. "Don't you see Cathy; you have to join Drama Club! We won't be able to see each other once classes start! You don't have to go on stage if you don't want to, you can be part of the writer's group, or Ellen could take you on as a stage hand, or Fanny could teach you how to be a technician."

"Okay," Cathy gave in. She knew if she didn't Emma would persist all night, she might even go as far as trying to brainwash Cathy in her sleep if it meant she got everyone to do Drama Club. "I'll try out Drama Club. I'll come to the fair tomorrow and put my email down on your list."

"Yes!" Emma squealed excitedly flinging her arms round Cathy's neck. "We're going to have so much fun!"

The usual sponsorship suddenly blared in their ears and all of them eagerly turned to the television screen just in time to catch Dame Maggie Smith walk in the room. Cathy was feeling rather pleased with herself, she adored that Emma wanted her company so much that she would go to extreme lengths to persuade Cathy, she loved the fact everyone liked one of her top ten favourite TV shows and watched it with her, and she loved how everyone agreed with her when she said Lady Mary was just like Lizzie.

Even Lizzie agreed to that! And then to top the evening's discussion off as the credits rolled up the screen, Emma said rather snidely, "yes and we all know whose Lizzie's Mathew, don't we?"

"I don't like Darcy!"

"I never said you did I was just saying-"

"_Emma!_"

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Tom slung his arm round Fanny and squeezed her shoulder tight. He was looking down at her with a somewhat worried expression. Well worried enough for him, Tom had always been a carefree spirit. "You've been taking care of my Number One Fan, haven't you ladies?" Tom grinned disarmingly to her friends.

"Of course," Emma said. There was a sort of stiffness in her tone and Fanny knew what it meant. In their first year together Emma had taken the role of Fanny's protector very seriously and got very defensive if someone so much as dared imply she wasn't doing her duty as a friend properly. "Though I'm sure Fanny would have preferred seeing her god brother more often."

Tom threw his head back and laughed. "You're a little spitfire, aren't you Em?" he said cheerfully. "It's certainly a good thing Fanny has a friend like you in her corner. I hate to think what would have happened to my gal in London without you lot."

"I think you would be rather surprised to find Fanny can take care of herself," Lizzie said coolly. As much as Lizzie would be the first to jump between Fanny and a fight, Fanny knew full well that Lizzie was a feminist first and always.

"Nah, she'll always be my babe," Tom shook his head, giving Fanny's shoulder another squeeze; she had a terrible feeling it'll bruise by tomorrow he was holding onto her so tight.

This was becoming a bit of a worry when she finally managed to get through to him this morning (hung-over, irritable, but still he greeted her cheerfully when she spoke) he listened to her worries about Edmund and suddenly came over with breakfast. When she went to leave for the fair Tom followed and he had been treating her to all sorts while keeping some sort of physical contact. As if he was hoping to fight every bad feeling away from her just by squeezing her shoulder. She had a feeling he was going to tell her something awful.

"Have you heard from Edmund?" she asked for the tenth time this morning. "He hasn't replied to any of my emails and I'm beginning to worry."

From the corner of her eye she could see Emma watching her over Cathy's head (which was bent over the clipboard she was scribbling her details on) with a rather worried expression while Lizzie was smiling encouragingly to newcomers. "Well...no I haven't, Fan," Tom said apologetically. He squeezed her shoulder again. "Dad's rather worried actually. Ever since Edmund has being hanging out with that Molly Crawford girl he hasn't done anything to change his circumstances. He can't get a job until he's ordained and...Well he hasn't gone to York to get ordained yet. He's been spending every waking moment with this girl and Dad thinks he's going to marry her...I'm so sorry Fanny."

Fanny didn't know what to say. Her chest ached with pain and her eyes burned a little but before she could focus on this painful feeling there was a change of movement in the corner of her eye and she focused on that instead. A boy had suddenly appeared to sign up just as Darcy made his way towards Lizzie. Darcy being startlingly beautiful as always froze like a human statue and his indifferent expression darkened into one of hate, anger and spite. It was so ugly and disturbing that Fanny shuddered deeply at the sight of it.

But that was not the worst of it. The worse was Emma's reaction to this new boy. Her forehead creased into a frown, her warm blue eyes darkened like a stormy sea, and the corners of her mouth tightened much like Maggie Smith's would whenever her character was displeased (either as the overbearing Cousin Violet in Downton or the stern, disapproving, Professor McGonagall in Harry Potter).

Cathy's head suddenly turned to the other direction. She dropped the clipboard with a loud thud as her mouth dropped open in dramatic shock. Fanny followed Cathy's eyes just as Tom tightened his grip onto Fanny's shoulder into a vice like grip.

Amongst the crowd of various people there stood tall, somewhat broad, soulful dark eyes, beautifully carved face much like his brother's but warmer, softer, dark curls but cut slightly different since the last time she saw him. There was something different about him entirely, the way he stood, the clothes he was wearing, the way he was looking at her as if she was a complete stranger.

"Wickham," Darcy's icy cold voice echoed in her ears.

"Wickham," Emma growled out. Furious beyond recognition.

"Isabella!" Cathy gasped out in surprise.

"Edmund?" Fanny heard her own voice whisper. "_Edmund _what are you doing here?"

The man blinked at her in confusion and then he uttered the most heartbreaking words in the world that shattered Fanny's world into pieces.

"I'm sorry," he said pleasantly, "but who are you?"


	5. Chapter 4: The Sad Tale of Fanny Price

_The little visitor meanwhile was as unhappy as possible. Afraid of everybody, ashamed of herself, and longing for the home she had left, she knew not how to look up, and could scarcely speak to be heard, or without crying – Mansfield Park, by Jane Austen. _

Ellen and Anne were chatting happily about the Downton Abbey episode on their way to swap over with Emma and Lizzie on the booth when they suddenly stumbled across perhaps the most dramatic scene they have ever encountered in their career as university students. Ellen sighed, only her friends would cause such a scene in public.

Ellen would swear that Emma had steam coming out of her ears she looked that furious, then Darcy looked like he was carved out of ice he was cold in his demeanour, Cathy seemed stunned though her attention was on something else, and Fanny...Fanny looked like death warmed over at the sight of someone else.

"What on earth have I missed darling?" Ellen asked Lizzie who seemed equally bewildered.

"I'm not quite sure," Lizzie mumbled as she warily glanced at both Darcy and Emma, "Do you know George?"

Ellen instinctively looked for George Knightly who practically haunted their house he was over that often. When she couldn't find the dashing, good looking, and completely off limits bloke she had to deduce that George was the rather good looking guy standing between the seething, almost on fire, furious Emma and the icy, chilling, angry Darcy.

"I think it's just best if I left," this new George said sheepishly, "I'm sorry to say I won't be joining Drama Club, something tells me I won't be welcomed."

"Too right," Emma snarled.

"Emma," Lizzie hissed.

The new George just shrugged and mumbled a goodbye to Lizzie before he walked off. Darcy gave Lizzie one piercing look with his icy blue eyes that always made Ellen impulsively shiver a little. There was just something terrifyingly cold about him sometimes. He then whirled round dramatically and stormed off with his long black coat flaring out behind him. Ellen raised her eyebrow again and inwardly wondered if her right eyebrow was going to forever be a little higher than her left eyebrow.

"Fanny, are you okay?" Anne asked quietly suddenly breaking the tension between Emma and Lizzie.

Everyone's attention turned onto Fanny who was rather ashen faced and looked as if she was about to faint or be sick. Thank god Tom was keeping a firm hold on her or Ellen had a terrible feeling she would have already collapsed.

"Ah!" Emma cried out suddenly cheerful. "Fanny, I want you to meet Elton Phillips. Elton I want you to meet one of my best friends Fanny Price."

"Elton..." Fanny mumbled.

Ellen took a closer look at this Elton fellow. She has known him for a while, of course, since he was prominent in the acting side of the Drama Club. He was all right but she didn't know him well and he always held this quality that seemed rather pompous. As if it was his given right to be on stage and no one else. But she knew the real reason why he terrified Fanny so much though there were some differences, as Ellen forced her mind to re-imagine the photos in Fanny's bedroom, Elton was the splitting image of Edmund.

For one brief moment Fanny must have thought that Edmund, who is so obviously the love of her life though the girls have been subtly encouraging her to meet other men, had forgotten her completely.

That was enough to break any girl's heart.

"Nice to meet you," Elton said pleasantly as he held a hand out, "_Fanny._"

JAJAJAJAJA

Once upon a time lived a girl called Francesca Price, she was very much loved by her parents and older brother and lived in a small cosy home and in a not very wealthy lifestyle. Her brother couldn't pronounce her name and therefore dubbed her as Frankie. They were all very happy, Mummy, Daddy, Will, and Frankie, and they were going to be happy forever and ever.

Then one day Daddy disappeared and Mummy was in tears. For a long time Frankie would wait by the window watching out for Daddy but he never came. Then eventually Frankie stopped waiting and continued playing and going to school, and being a good girl.

Then Mummy got sick. Very sick. And there was no sign of Daddy and strangers spent a lot of time whispering around Will and Frankie. Eventually they seemed to have decided on something and they sat the two of them down and explained everything.

That was the day Fanny learnt her mother was dying.

She never saw her mother again after that day.

Frankie had refused to believe these strangers she had to see Mummy with her own eyes and the last time she saw her, the nurses were pulling Frankie out of the room. Her mother was a ghost, a pale imitation of the bubbly warm loving woman she vaguely remembered, it was a shameful thing to admit but Fanny only remembers the dangerously ill woman in the bed.

Frankie had then been taken away from her older brother. Apparently Mummy's will said they were to go to their godparents, and they had different godparents. Will went to live with his father's best friend while Frankie was sent away to her mother's best friend from school.

The Bertrams.

It was all so intimidating and Frankie was still upset over seeing Mummy look so ill. The house was huge, far bigger than Fanny had ever been used to, and everything was too richly decorated, too overwhelmingly clean, and too grand for Frankie. She felt like she was on a school trip at a museum rather moving into her new home.

Mr Bertram stood over her sternly and she shielded away from him in terror. In hindsight that was obviously the basis of their relationship, her forever stern and strict godfather terrifying her whenever she spoke out of turn. His wife, and Frankie's godmother, has never been completely in her right mind, not since her last pregnancy, and she spent most of that afternoon talking about her dogs. Aunt Norris stood in the corner glaring at Frankie, and then the children came in.

At the time Tom didn't care about Fanny. In fact it took him a few months before he came to liking her and he didn't become that loving, overprotective, brother figure until Fanny reached adolescence. Edmund was polite, gentle, and kind to her from the very beginning; it was the start of her falling in love with him. Julia and Mariah however were not indifferent nor were they kind and gentle to her.

"Frankie," Julia had sneered, "what sort of name is that for a girl?"

"It is short for Francesca," her mother explained unaware of the rudeness in her daughter's tone.

"That's too long," Mariah had complained, "no one can say that. We'll call her _Fanny_."

They then burst into unexplained giggles which were ignored by the adults in the room. Tom had frowned a little then and Edmund merely looked bewildered at his sisters' behaviour. "There, good girls," Mr Bertram practically bellowed. "Giving you a nickname already, Fanny, are my girls not good to you?"

Fanny mumbled something and was then ordered to go and play. She didn't move at first, she had the distinct feeling that none of the Bertram children wanted to play with her, and she desperately wanted to go home and be with Will and Mummy. Edmund held his hand out to her and smiled softly, "Don't be afraid Fanny. We are family now, come on I'll show you my toys and then perhaps we'll play monopoly, have you ever played monopoly before?" Fanny shook her head unable to say anything to this kind angel. Edmund had always been beautiful since she could remember. "Well I shall teach you."

Hesitatingly and after some urging from Mr Bertram, Fanny accepted Edmund's hand and she didn't let go until long after she fell asleep that night. He had become her only comfort in this strange bleak world without her family. She had settled into a routine of sorts where she played with Edmund, occasionally allowed Mariah and Julia boss her around, and obeyed her godfather and his sister, Aunt Norris. Her room was small and empty, her toys deemed unsuitable and were never really replaced which was probably just as well since she quickly grew out of dolls. There was a funeral, she barely remembered it, but there was a funeral and it was raining, and dark, and one of the worst days of her life. Then suddenly school started.

It was then when Fanny learnt truly how cruel Mariah and Julia can be. Having listened to her godfather who truly did believe Mariah and Julia were being good to Fanny by baptising her with a new nickname, Fanny was unaware of the implications that came with it. She had never sought out information about her body, biology has never been an interest to her...actually science in general has never been an interest she always preferred fiction and history and art. So when she proudly announced to the class on her first day that her name was Fanny Price she was stunned to hear laughter and giggling.

"So you're a fanny then," one classmate said nastily, "shouldn't you be wearing knickers?"

"But I am wearing knickers," Fanny mumbled in confusion.

The teasing was hurtful and unable to understand what was so funny about her name Fanny gave the bullies more and more material. Never doubt that children are the cruellest creatures in the world. It was how Fanny found God actually, at the age of ten, running from the latest bullies who wanted to see _Fanny Price's fanny leak_ one crudely put it, and she hid in Mansfield's Parish Church and accidentally ran into Father Parsons. Father Parsons was everything Mr Bertram should have been but wasn't, he was kind, caring, and he taught Fanny a great deal. He was her male role model in life.

He taught Fanny the greatest lesson in life – that God _**loved**_ her. the last person she knew that definitely loved her was her mother, she hadn't felt loved in two years and to suddenly hear that there was a great deity out there that loved her simply for being herself had helped Fanny become a better person. Father Parsons taught her the second greatest lesson in life – to turn the other cheek to those who spoke rudely to her. She would turn the other cheek to such horrible people because she was the better person and when judgement came she would be accepted into heaven instantly.

It had helped her become a serene and calm person. Unlike her peers, she kept a clear head when considering her future, she was never unrealistic about her hopes and wishes, and she always worked hard. Never once did she try to tart (pardon her language) herself up for a guy or go wild, drink lots and do drugs to impress a group of people. The bullying was beginning to halt to a stop as it no longer had an effect on her and people were moving on from the whole Fanny business.

At least that was what she told herself. There was still that undertone of malicious laughter whenever someone other than her friends or teachers uttered her name. There were still a couple brutal and disgustingly crude jokes made about her name.

One boy, called Richard, had come up to her when she was fourteen and told her that since his name was Dick and her name was Fanny they should go behind the bike shed and start practising.

Fanny was so horrified that she couldn't form a reply and before she could even _stutter _a single vowel Tom came charging up to the boy and punched him right in the nose, effectively breaking it.

Most people left Fanny alone after that but not Mariah or Julia and no matter how hard she tried to turn the other cheek Fanny would sometimes hear that sneering tone implying terrible things to that God awful (may the Lord forgive her for using his name in vain) nickname she could never escape.

It would always hurt.

Her lack of loving childhood, her unrequited love, and the harsh bullying followed her into University and when she introduced herself to Emma Woodhouse that dreaded nickname slipped out before she could even think about it. She had never been a Francesca and she could never be Frankie again, that happy, clueless, and well loved child was long gone. None of the girls ever uttered her name in that sneering tone and slowly they built up a new Fanny who was slowly becoming more at peace with herself than ever before.

Now she met Elton Phillips who spoke in that tone and everything came undone.

And though she had never foolishly wished for something she could never have she had fallen hard for Edmund. She would pray that he would notice her just once but she never had an unrealistic expectation of him dropping down on one knee and swearing to love her for all eternally. Nonetheless to meet someone who looked so much like Edmund and hear him use such a tone when uttering her name broke her heart completely.

So with a weak smile, completely aware of Tom's tight grip on her shoulder, and Emma's encouraging smile, Fanny took Elton's hand and gave it a small shake. "It's nice to meet you too, Elton," she said quietly.

She could see where this will go, Emma will encourage Fanny to befriend and perhaps fall for Elton in order to help her overcome her unrequited feelings for Edmund, but Elton was going to prove that he was nothing like Emma had thought him to be, and they would both get hurt.

She won't say anything though.

She would just smile and carry on like always.

She will never let on how much it hurts inside.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

"Isabella, where the hell have you been? Did you know that the house was a con; I was stuck on the streets for _several hours_ before I found somewhere else, do you have any idea how mind-numbingly _terrifying_ that was? Do you? _Do you_?"

Isabella Thorp had never been especially pretty. She was rather chubby, plain, and had nothing but a waterfall of golden blonde curls to boast about but she had always managed to make Cathy feel insignificant and hideous with one single look. There was something about her that made her far superior than anything Cathy could hope to dream to be. One single look from Isabella and Cathy instantly wished she had never spoken.

"Cathy dear," Isabella said a little sharply, "I haven't seen you for almost five months and the first thing you do is shout at me? I am hurt, so hurt I can't even tell you."

Cathy could feel her anger evaporating much to her frustration. Why is it that she cannot keep her temper long enough for a proper confrontation? She wanted to tell Isabella how much she had hurt Cathy, she wanted to tell her in detail how terrified she had been no thanks to Isabella, and then she wanted to slap that cool look of her face and show her what real anger felt like. Instead she wilted and gazed up at Isabella apologetically.

"I'm sorry Isabella," Cathy mumbled. "I'm just upset because our plans didn't work and I got stuck in a difficult situation."

"All is forgiven Cathy," Isabella embraced Cathy, "we are perfect friends once more. You must tell me everything, in fact lets go to the bar and I'll buy you a drink while you fill me in on every detail of what happened. You must also tell me what exactly that deliciously divine brother of yours has been up to."

Cathy allowed Isabella to lead her out of the sports hall but not without glancing backwards to the girls. Emma was talking to a boy, Fanny and her friend Tom, Lizzie had disappeared, Ellen was encouraging some Freshers to join Drama Club, and Anne was looking down at something.

Cathy suddenly wanted to pull out of Isabella's grasp and run to her friends, her real friends, and spend the afternoon with them.

She didn't know why, after all, wasn't Isabella supposed to be her best friend?

JAJAJAJAJAJAJA

With Emma trying to matchmake, Cathy suddenly disappearing, and Ellen and Anne taking a turn at the booth, there was very little for Lizzie to do other than find George Wickham and find out exactly why Darcy and Emma was so furious with him. She had taken advantage of Fanny being introduced to Elton and disappeared before she got stuck in some conversation unfortunately though it wasn't quick enough since she couldn't find Darcy or George Wickham anywhere.

Damn it! She hated having a mystery on her hands and no way of solving it quickly. With a growl to herself she decided it was best to just get some lunch and confront Emma later at dinner. Just as she was about to turn to leave she walked right into George Knightly, damn what on earth does that guy do, lift boulders? His chest was rock hard, lucky Emma.

"Are you ok, Lizzie?" George asked as he helped steady her.

"I'm fine George," Lizzie shrugged. "How are you?"

"I'm all right," George shrugged. "I'm looking for Emma, her shift at the booth should be over and I was going to buy her lunch."

"Lost a bet?"

"No I'm just being nice."

Lizzie snorted. There must have been a bet or something, George rarely willingly brought Emma lunch citing that Emma was more or less richer than he was and since she was a 'proud feminist she could pay for lunch once in a while. It was often a reoccurring and highly amusing argument to watch when George and Emma were about to leave for 'it's not a date' (Pah! Who do they think they're fooling? Obviously themselves.).

It was a sudden thought that sprang into her mind. Of course! George would know why Emma didn't like Other George. George knew everything about Emma; he would answer all of Lizzie's questions and solve the mystery in no time.

"Hey George," Lizzie said.

"Yeah?"

"I met a George Wickham today, he was going to join the Drama Club, but then one look from a furious, and I mean _furious_, Emma he practically ran off," Lizzie said quickly, "any idea why?"

It was an odd and slightly terrifying moment. George Knightly was never known to be a temperamental guy and yet he looked downright furious, his dark eyes blazing like coal on fire, and his usual easy smile pinched into a tight frown. "Wickham is here?" he growled.

"Yeah...what on earth happened between you guys?" Lizzie asked.

George blinked and attempted to smile at Lizzie. He failed, whatever Other George did must have been bad. "That is between me, Emma, Wickham, and a friend of ours in Highbury," he said calmly, "I will not divulge other people's secrets. Now excuse me Lizzie I need to find Emma."

Lizzie cursed as he ran off. _Damnit!_ How was she supposed to find out what on earth was so bad about Wickham if none of her friends told her? She'll have to find him herself another day and get her answers from him. Just as she was finally about to leave the hot stuffy hall her phone went off.

The chorus of _Perfect _by Pink blared out and she cursed quietly to herself. It was the ringtone she assigned to all of her sisters and she wasn't in the mood for Mary's complaints about the Twins, or the Twins giggling commentary of their day, or even Jane's gushing on how perfect Charlie Bingley was.

It was Jane. Damn, loved up gushing it was.

"Hi Jane," Lizzie said enthusiastically as possible, i.e. not enthusiastically at all.

"Liz," Jane sobbed, "Liz...Charlie broke up with me."

Oh _hell_.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

It was one of the bad days.

A skirmish quickly turned into a battle. All of his senses were overtaken by adrenalin as he ran across the field to cover his superior's back. He can hear gun shots, explosions, from the corner of his eyes he can see amber flames, black smoke, and ash covered bodies, and dust and debris left over. He could smell it all, the burning, the dust, the death, but none of it mattered as long as he helped Brandon out, got out alive, and lived another day.

"Sir!" he roared out. "Watch out!"

Another explosion. One very nearby, he only just managed to push Colonel Brandon out of the way, and now he was flying in the air. It was the best, oddest, and most terrifying sensation in the world.

_Thud_!

He landed on the ground hard and his world begun to spin. He could almost feel every ache and twinge in his body as adrenalin was quickly leaving him behind.

Then he saw it. Or more appropriately, he saw _her._

Her dark eyes, dark curls surrounding her pale face, and the soft concerned expression as her small hand reached out for him.

Then everything went black.

If this was death at least he got to see Anne Elliot's face one last time.


	6. Chapter 5:A Bad Week for Austen House

_Rule Number 1: during 'that time of the month' we don't say anything about it nor do we try to antagonise one another. Instead we shall be sympathetic to one another, give each other chocolate, and NO BOYS ALLOWED.  
_**Oh come on, George deserves to suffer the torture we have to go through every month! - **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse. **_

Never before has every single member of Austen House hated someone at the same time.

George would know because he knew all of them apart from Cathy, who is new to the House, rather well. He had practically lived with them for the last two years thanks to his friendship with Emma and he knows how tolerant Fanny and Anne can be, how calm and logical Ellen is, how unbothered Emma and usually Lizzie is, and he suppose Cathy is too cheerful and nice to hate. The best example of them not hating someone at the same time would be Wickham, Emma hates his guts, Lizzie wants to know him better, and the others really can't be bothered either way.

George is only using Wickham as an example right now because his reappearance in Emma's life has made his a complete misery. Both of his best friends were furious right now, Emma was being a stroppy, snarky, snappy little...and well he hasn't even seen Darcy for almost a week now. Darcy has pulled his usual trick of locking himself in his bedroom with his work and refusing to come out until his temper has gone. _Sulking time_, Emma always calls it with a cheeky grin.

To be honest now he wasn't sure if his flatmate was still alive (he has yet to catch the scent of a rotting body yet so he's sure Darcy is all right...for now) and all of his other friends that weren't Emma were either working or stuck doing research, George had nothing better to do on a Sunday morning than buy Emma brunch in an attempt to convince her to spend the day with him.

That was when he stumbled upon the scene where each and every Austen House girl was glaring at Isabella Thorp. He had met her briefly in the last week when she had dragged Cathy away from the Drama Club's after session drinks and he didn't think much of her. She was rude, far too bold, and had managed to make him feel six inches tall which made things worse since he's almost a decade older than her.

He had decided to give her a second chance. After all she might have just been shy, lord knows someone people can be very rude when they're nervous round new people coughDarcycough but the moment he stepped through the front door earlier this morning he knew this wasn't the case.

Even _Fanny_ was glaring at the girl and he didn't think it was physically possible for Fanny to express angry emotions!

"Hello lad...erm...ah, is this a bad time?" he asked awkwardly.

Isabella turned to face him and snorted, "So you expect me to believe all of you are going to church when he suddenly shows up?"

"He goes to church with us," Emma said before George could have even formed a reply.

George had raised an eyebrow at her but she ignored him in favour of glaring at Isabella. Hmm...He'll need to have a word with her about that later.

"Oh fine!" Isabella snapped suddenly, "I'll see you in class Cathy; I hope you have a fantastic time in _church_."

George grimaced as both Fanny and Cathy flinched, Anne looked surprised, Lizzie raised an eyebrow, and both Emma and Ellen blanched, he might not believe in God but he would never say the word church as if it was some sort of despicable insult. After a mumbled goodbye from Cathy, Isabella stormed past George with her head held up high.

"I don't really have to go to church, do I?" George asked.

"I think it's best if we went just today," Emma said, "I don't want to go out and find that b- Isabella hovering round or anything. If she sees us going this week she's likely to never come again on a Sunday."

So now George was half starved and half bored to death as the sermon finally finished and people were starting to make a move. Emma was equally sleepy as him (Ha! Serves her right for dragging him into this mess!) and apart from Fanny and Cathy none of the other girls were any better.

"So can we go now?" George moaned.

"In a minute," Emma said rolling her eyes, "I just want to say hello to Harry and then we can find the nearest greasy spoon there is."

"Harry? Who's Harry?" George asked suspiciously. Good grief did he have another guy to screen for Emma's safety? These days they seem to be coming out in flocks.

"Harry Tilney," Emma said, "you know the guy Cathy really likes and can't stop talking about?"

"Really?" an amused voice said behind him.

"Emma!" Cathy hissed as her cheeks turned a paint pink.

George turned to face a tall and rather skinny man with light brown hair, there was nothing about him that George would describe as fascinating or attractive, and he wore plain clothing, had no shocking piercings or tattoos, and just simply grinned in a friendly manner. All George could think about Harry Tilney was that he was nice which wasn't a bad thing at all.

"George Knightly," he said holding his hand out to Tilney, "bodyguard to all members of Austen House."

"Terrible one," he heard Lizzie mutter to Ellen.

"Harry Tilney," Harry said taking George's hand and giving it a firm shake. "A friend of both Cathy's and Fanny's, I've never seen all of you at the church before, do you worship elsewhere or are you exploring your religious options?"

"I was coerced into coming," George confessed, "I don't believe in God."

"Really? Why is that?" Harry asked curiously.

George gleefully jumped into a long rant which led into a delightful debate with Harry Tilney who was also reasonable intelligent and could hold himself in an argument. It was such a intense debate with a fringe of very good conversation that George ended up inviting Harry out for brunch with him and the girls.

Emma moaned and groaned later on how boring he had been but George just smirked and laughed.

Revenge, after all, was best served with some bacon on the side.

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Cathy was all over the place.

At first she felt rather hurt that Isabella could be so cold towards her about the whole church thing. It wasn't her fault that she felt comfortable to worship regularly again...okay maybe it is but that wasn't worth being so...so...so _snooty_ about it!

Then she got rather angry that Isabella could be so backhanded about everything! They shared every class together and nearly every moment Isabella got to speak she dropped some sort of hint that there was something unsavoury about the girls in Austen House. How could she dare accuse the likes of Fanny and Anne being anything more than shy and sweet-natured? How could she imply that Lizzie was a snob, and Emma was controlling, and Ellen wasn't worth the time? These _were her friends_ and so far they had been better friends to Cathy than Isabella had been but every time Cathy tried to say that it got twisted into Cathy being the bad guy and not Isabella.

This led to her being so upset! She wanted to cry sometimes because she was so frustrated with Isabella, and hurt that her friend couldn't trust her judgement or even be nice about her other friends. To top it off she was frazzled at actually being back in class after such a long summer break that she was struggling to get back into the swing of things which stressed her out completely.

Then to make things worse two things happened at once.

First her time of the month started and for the first couple days she was in complete agony, her stomach ached, her back ached, her hips ached, and she bled like a stuck pig as every little thing set her off. Fortunately though she wasn't alone in this pain as it appeared the other members were just as stricken and George quickly pulled a vanishing act. Then the second thing was she caught a bout of Fresher's Flu, her nose was stuffed up, her throat was sore and raw from all the coughing, and her head pounded.

She was too busy thinking about her cosy bed that she didn't see where she was going and immediately ended up with her nose mashed up against someone's chest.

"Oh I'm sorry," she sniffled.

"It's quite all right," Harry grinned, "I always find bumping into you is a happy accident."

"Harry!" she tried to smile but her face ached as well as everything else. This was sheer agony. She was going to die, she was certain she was but at least she would die happy looking into Harry's lovely warm eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm well," Harry said kindly, "you're not looking so well though, Fresher's Flu?"

"Yeah on top of everything else," Cathy said trying to find her tissues.

"Here," Harry offered her his pack.

"Thank you!" Cathy cried out. "You're a lifesaver."

Her cheeks burnt hotly as she blew her nose, she sounded like a trumpet, how unattractive is that? He will never see her as a love interest at this rate! She will be forever stuck in the friend zone while he finds someone far more suitable like the incredibly witty and beautiful Lizzie or the sweet, kind, and graceful Fanny. She was just a _mess _that no one would look at twice.

"Other than being ill, how are you?" Harry asked still smiling.

"Oh stressed, distressed, furious, upset, and in sheer agony," Cathy moaned.

"Oh no," his smile had turned into a full blown out grin. _He was laughing at her_! The git! "Why don't I buy you lunch and you can tell me all about it."

Well then...she can't exactly turn down a free lunch can she?

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"The amount of work I have is ridiculous."

Anne raised an eyebrow at Emma who was bemoaning her workload as they were all eating dinner...and well doing some work while they were at it. Ellen, Lizzie, and Emma were all reading the same Shakespeare play at the table, Cathy was glancing through her anthropology when she wasn't sneezing or coughing, and Anne had been scribbling out points to expand upon for her dissertation report between bites. The only one who wasn't working was Fanny and she was barely paying attention to her food let alone to any of the others.

"You're not the only one who has a lot of work on your plate," Anne pointed out quietly.

"I know but it is ridiculous, how am I expected to not only do our usual reading but two assignments for week four of all weeks, a dissertation report, actual dissertation research, and all the extra reading my tutors are demanding to do while I also direct the play?"

"You only have yourself to blame, you insisted on directing," Lizzie said behind her book.

"I'm not one for the stage and I wanted to be involved in one last production before I got too bog down in work," Emma said pausing to eat some carrots, "how was I supposed to know that I would be bogged down with work in my first week? We never were in our first two years."

"Last year's lot did warn you," Anne said a little timidly. They were all in foul moods this week, not only were they suddenly under a lot of work but it was that time of month for all six of them and it never made a happy atmosphere. "But you insisted."

"I know, I know, I only have myself to blame," Emma snapped spearing a potato with her fork, "I expect you all to help out as usual when production week comes along, and I expect to see Lizzie and Cathy at auditions next week."

"Cathy I understand," Lizzie said putting her book down so she could cut her pie, "you need new blood to fill the ranks, but why me?"

"I want you to play Rosalind," Emma said cheerfully. "You're perfect for the part – witty, intelligent, clever, cunning, sly, and it really helps you're gorgeous to look at."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, "isn't that typecasting?"

Emma shrugged and they all fell into silence. Anne jotted one last point she wanted to make before putting her pen down and started to eat properly since she was the only one who wasn't playing with her food (Fanny) or still focusing more on her work (the other four) she had finished within minutes and decided the silence needed filling while she started on the washing up.

The radio blared into life and the sink was quickly filled with bubbles. No one spoke as Anne cleaned the crockery and her own plate; the latest pop song was enough to fill the silence until a chair scrapping against the floor echoed in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," Fanny mumbled, "I'm not very hungry and I need to plan out some lessons."

"Give me your plate," Anne said, "I'll throw what's left in the bed."

"Thank you," Fanny whispered as she passed her plate to Anne.

Anne was walking to the bin when the song ended and a news cast loudly started. "- _And the latest news from Afghanistan, a unit of soldiers had been attacked fortunately only three are dead including two young men in their twenties and one in his thirties but majority of them are severely injured and due to come home, these include the celebrated Colonel Brandon and Captain Fredrick Wentworth-."_

_SMASH!_

Anne barely noticed the plate slipping through her fingers. All she can hear is severely injured and Captain Fredrick Wentworth.

_Severely injured._

_**Severely injured.**_

_**Severely injured.**_

The words echoed in her ears as her heart stopped beating and ice filled her blood quickly. Freddie was severely injured! He could be dying right this second and she wouldn't know it!

"Anne? Anne? Are you okay? Speak to me Anne?"

She felt a warm arm loop round the back of her shoulders and an equally warm hand on her forehead. "She's not burning up," Ellen said. "Darling, are you okay?"

"Y-y-yes," Anne barely managed to whisper, "I-I-it's just cramps...suddenly in pain...need to lie down...will be all right."

"You go and lie down then," Ellen murmured, "I'll clean up here and one of us will bring you a hot chocolate up in a few minutes."

Anne is certain she hadn't said anything then. Perhaps she just nodded or maybe she did manage to whisper some nonsensical thing, she wasn't sure, all she knew was within seconds she was slowly walking down the hallway and slowly climbing up the stairs before passing by a shocked Fanny who must have come running out of her room when she heard the plate smash.

Once she was in her room she crumpled onto her bed and clutched her stuffed golden Labrador tightly to her chest.

Once upon a time this stuffed toy had been won for her in a fair by a boy called Freddie Wentworth. This and a couple other little things were all she had left of him.

Tears began to run down her cheeks.

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"PUB!"

George looked up from his rather fascinating novel to see the Drama Club burst through the doors. Like any undergraduate student they were all eager to have a drink after their meeting. He marked his page and then scanned the group immediately for Emma but instead he caught Ellen's eye, she shook her head before she made her way to him.

"Hello George," she said, "how are you?"

"I'm good, thanks," George replied. "And you?"

"Tired," Ellen said, "I've just finished taking down all our new members' details for the union and now all I can think about is going to bed."

"A student not thinking about a nice ice cold alcoholic beverage?" George gasped mockingly, "I think I just say a flying pig."

"Well now you mention it I suppose you can buy me a drink," Ellen joked. "Nah, I'm not drinking tonight I have a morning shift tomorrow and I need to do some more work for my dissertation."

"I see," George said, "is Emma-"

"Emma is making the last few decisions on casting," Ellen interrupted him. They both knew full well what his question was going to be. "I wouldn't worry George, she'll be here soon and you can stop suffering."

Before George could say something about Ellen's light jibe his table was completely invaded by the rest of Austen House. Cathy, Lizzie, and Fanny sat between him and Ellen leaving one space for presumably Emma. Fanny shyly passed Ellen a glass of lemonade before sipping hers.

"All right, George?" Lizzie asked.

"Yeah, and you?" George replied. Cathy sneezed loudly and instantly buried her nose into a tissue. "Still ill Cathy?" he asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Cathy mumbled, "I think I buggered my audition I couldn't stop coughing during my monologue."

"You showed enthusiasm," Lizzie said encouragingly. "That's all we ask, we never look for talented superstars."

"Which was blatantly obvious in that production of yours in first year," George grinned.

"That was not our fault," Lizzie sniffed, "it was poor direction, terrible props that weren't held up properly, and the fact _someone_ decided to speak the cursed play's title on stage moments before we were about to begin."

"It's a silly superstition and had nothing to do with the fact Emma walked into the scenery during you're badly recited monologue," George protested.

"I was nervous!" Lizzie protested.

It took a moment for George to realise someone was missing. He had been too busy teasing Lizzie that he hadn't realised but when Ellen chuckled, Fanny smiled nervously, and Cathy snuffled into her tissue he realised that it wasn't just Emma who hadn't turned up to the pub just yet.

"Where's Anne?" he asked. "Is she helping Emma cast?"

The girls all exchanged a look that made George feel rather nervous. It had always been in his experience that when a group of girls exchanged a look like that then bad news was about to come out.

"Anne...isn't well," Ellen said diplomatically.

"Fresher's Flu?" George asked.

"No," Ellen paused for a moment as she searched for the right words, "we thought it might be cramps," George tried not to grimace, he had been the Woodhouse sisters' friend for years and spent a large amount of time to know that that time of the month can be particularly painful. "But we...well let's just say it is unusual for Anne to suffer cramps this badly."

"She hasn't left her bedroom since last night," Lizzie said picking at the tin foil on her cider bottle, "it's starting to become a worry."

"_Starting_ to?" Ellen said with a raised eyebrow. "I've been worried since she broke the plate last night."

George decided not to question anything. It wasn't his place to and as a honorary member of Austen House he followed the girls' rules to the letter, _we don't say anything about it, _he knew what week it was for the girls since he had Emma's cycle jotted down in his planner since she was fifteen. It was just safer that way.

The silence at the table was thankfully broken by the pub door opening and Emma striding in. "All right, listen up everyone," she called out to the whole club. "I want to thank each and every one of you for trying out and doing your best, if I could I would give you all parts but unfortunately there is a limited number of speaking parts, but those who don't receive a speaking part don't despair I still need enthusiastic extras to play the Duke's court. Now-"

George tuned out the actual words Emma spoke to focus more on her. Overall she looked bright and cheerful as always, her blue eyes sparkling in the light, her mouth shaped into a warm smile, and her cheeks flushed from the wind. The every epitome of being alive. But a closer look proved that in reality she was rather tired and stressed, under the pink flush she was a little pale and pallid, there were dark circles under her eyes, and every so often her mouth shifted into a firm line like it always does when she's trying to suppress a yawn.

He wanted nothing more than to stride over there, give her a great big hug, and then drag her to bed so she can get some rest.

Lizzie snorted as Elton suddenly stood up and bowed to the polite round of applause. Arrogant fop, George thought as he peered at Fanny with concern. He knows that Emma wants Fanny to at least date Elton for a while to help her get out and find someone other than Edmund to pine over but he's certain that Elton was completely wrong for the gentle and rather timid girl. Elton was all about the flashy glamorous stuff while Fanny preferred the quiet life. He could tell Fanny wasn't very taken by Elton's act as she wrinkled her nose and took a sip of her lemonade.

"If he wasn't a good actor I would say he didn't deserve the part," Lizzie muttered, "the only person in the world that is more arrogant than that prick is Darcy."

George bristled at the insult to his other best friend but didn't say anything as Emma loudly announced that Lizzie was Rosalind and Cathy was Celia.

"I am?" Cathy asked in surprise.

"Yes," Emma said with a grin, "you showed the right enthusiasm for the character and I have no doubt you'll play the part brilliantly."

Cathy squealed and threw her arms round the nearest person which happened to be a rather startled Ellen. Ellen quickly got over her shock, smiled warmly, and embraced Cathy back. "Well done darling, you deserved it," Ellen said happily.

"Thank you! Oh thank you! I'm so happy, thank you, tha-_achoo_!" Cathy sneezed abruptly ending her over-excited gratitude.

"Here," a voice said behind George as an arm moved over his shoulder to pass Cathy a tissue. "And congratulations. I will look forwards to seeing your award winning performance as Celia."

"You're teasing me again!" Cathy exclaimed behind the tissue.

George saw the pleased pink flush on Cathy's cheeks and he turned to see an equally pleased pink flush on Harry Tilney's cheeks as they shared a special look between the two of them (completely ignoring the fact that George and girls were watching them) and George inwardly groaned.

Sometimes, and please don't tell Emma this, Emma gets it right when she starts matchmaking.

But if you do tell Emma this George will deny it to his dying day.

**Author's Note: I feel a little wary of this chapter, due to some writer's block the beginning, and the middle seem a bit strained, weak, and forced but I can't seem to get my act together and figure out how to improve it. Therefore I will be grateful if any of you have some constructive criticism I will gladly take it on board for future chapters. This particular chapter is dedicated to Cynthia Salander who wanted lots of Tilney, I hope this appeased you XD**


	7. Chapter 6: Anne's Epiphany

_...a few months ended Anne's share of suffering from it. Her attachment and regrets had, for a long time, clouded every enjoyment of youth, and an early loss of bloom and spirits had been their lasting effect. – Persuasion, by Jane Austen. _

It was Ellen that finally managed to coax Anne out of her room.

Her never ending patience as well as her gentleness and what Emma calls 'her motherliness' had worked like magic Sunday evening when enough was enough for the rest of Austen House. Lizzie had a presentation with Anne that needed doing soon, Fanny had been pestered by a friend of Anne's who wanted some help during church, and Emma's worry overcame what little patience she had. Cathy hadn't said anything but the nervous nibble on her lips and the wary glance she shot at the oven was enough to tell Ellen that she desperately wanted Anne back to cook dinner at least.

They still yet to replace the tea towel Cathy somehow accidentally set on fire the last time she cooked and the time before that they did try to enjoy the blood splattered potatoes, but as Lizzie somewhat cruelly pointed out, they weren't vampires.

"Anne," Ellen tapped on the bedroom door, "Anne darling, can I come in?"

After two minutes of silence Ellen decided to enter Anne's room, she knew it was unlikely for Anne to be indecent and Anne was never prone to temper tantrums if she felt her privacy was invaded. Her room was depressingly dark with the curtains shut tight against the weak October sun and none of the lights turned on. Ellen navigated herself round the carelessly abandoned clothes that lay on the floor and climbed under the warm covers on Anne's bed.

Anne was facing the wall which meant Ellen couldn't see her face but judging by the snuffling sound she had been crying. She said nothing as Ellen pulled her into an awkward hug; she simply placed her hand over Ellen's and snuggled closer to her pillow.

"You cannot hide in your room forever, darling," Ellen said gently.

"I know," Anne whispered hoarsely. Her voice sounded rusty as if she hadn't spoken since the last time Ellen had spoken to her. Knowing that Anne hadn't left her room since the last time Ellen had spoken to her she didn't doubt it at all. "I know..."

"You have so much work to catch up on," Ellen continued, "Lizzie needs you for that presentation."

"I know."

"And your writers group has been wandering round aimlessly without you."

There was no reply for that. While Anne was aware of her closest friends needing her for class work she would never believe in a million years that a group of people would be totally hopeless without her. It made Ellen curse the Elliot family, what sort of people they must be to make Anne feel so worthless? She had only met Anne's aunt once who made Ellen's sister in law Fran seem rather sweet and trust her that is _not _an easy feat.

"And you really need to eat. It's not healthy for you to starve away in here," Ellen continued, "and I'm not being nasty here but you really need to shower as well."

"I know," Anne mumbled.

"And it's Lizzie's birthday soon, she wants you there," Ellen added using her secret weapon. Anne would never get over the guilt of missing one of their birthdays especially when she has no excuse during the academic year. "So you really have no choice but to come out of your room now."

"Okay," Anne choked out; Ellen wasn't sure if it was because she was trying to not laugh or because she was trying to hide her tears.

"Anne," Ellen said giving her friend a comforting squeeze, "you know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

"I know," Anne said.

It was the first time in the whole conversation she spoke properly. Ellen wasn't going to push her into speaking anything else until she was ready but she did pull her out of bed and led her down by the hand into the kitchen where Emma rescued them all from what would have been another disaster by ordering pizza.

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Anne hadn't been able to eat more than a slice of pizza.

This was a shame really because Emma had paid for her to have her favourite as well but the cheese felt too sickly, the double pepperoni was too greasy, and the deep pan, thick crust, was stuck in her throat. The others carefully paid no attention to this as they filled her in on what she had missed cheerfully and moaned about all the work they had to do. Any other day she would be grateful but today it was just noise to her just as the pizza was just there to her. All she could think about was Fred, and how she would never see his kind eyes again, or hear his laugh, or feel his arms round her.

She didn't know if he was dead. She doesn't know if he had recovered or if his injuries have killed him. She knew he had joined the army, that it had always been in his plan to do so...but she didn't realise he could _die_. It had never sunk in until now.

A world without Fred Wentworth wasn't a world she particularly wanted to live in. She can keep on living if she just knew he was out there alive somewhere but she couldn't if he died. If he was dead, unable to live, unable to do the things he wanted to do, unable to fall in love again and have children with his eyes and smile, then she just didn't want to live in that world. It would be a world with one less kind soul. The best of the kindest soul.

Lizzie wouldn't let her mope which was probably for the best. After she devoured her own pizza, Lizzie clapped her hand round Anne's wrist as if she was an iron clasp and then dragged Anne into her bedroom and sat her down at the desk to go over the presentation.

It took two hours of Anne reading Lizzie's notes and actually making a PowerPoint under Lizzie's stern eye. Quite honestly it should be Lizzie training to be a teacher not Fanny, there is no doubt Lizzie would make a fine strict and stern mistress of the classroom. A regular Professor McGonagall.

Emma rescued them from spending the whole night catching up on their work by dragging them downstairs for their regular movie and TV night. Anne could barely focus on the television screen as the characters she knew and loved quickly turned into strangers, and the music she would tap her fingers to turned into white noise. She thought of nothing...

...she didn't realise she fell asleep until Ellen shook her awake. She fell asleep on Emma, who had also fallen asleep and held onto Anne as if she was Emma's favourite teddy bear, and was almost covered by Cathy whose head was resting on her collarbone.

"Come on," Ellen said firmly but gently, "bed. I've already set your alarm and I expect to see you at the table of breakfast."

"Yes, Elle," Anne murmured sleepily as she allowed Ellen to guide her up the stairs.

Behind her she can hear Fanny and Lizzie force an equally sleepy and rather grumpy Emma and Cathy up the stairs. It made Anne smile as Lizzie and Emma sniped at one another each step they took, and it was then when Anne realised that she had to go on.

No matter what happens she must go on living because though Freddie had such a huge claim of her very being her friends had an equal claim to her heart and they needed her just as much as she needed them.

So the next morning she woke up before her alarm and set out to cook breakfast for everyone.

It was time to carry on.

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Cathy was in a bit of a pickle.

It was Lizzie's birthday in a couple days and she had no clue what to get the quite frankly intimidating girl. She knew Lizzie liked some of the same things as Cathy, they shared a great love for the same books, music, movies and television programmes, but Lizzie didn't express the same enthusiasm as Cathy did for them. Then on top of that Cathy didn't know Lizzie's size, couldn't put a name to what perfume she wore, and never seen her wear excessive jewellery, _and _it was Lizzie's twenty first birthday and that meant Cathy should really get her something special.

It also didn't help that Cathy had very little spare money. Unsure what to do with herself Cathy merely wandered in her safe haven, the only place she felt at peace, her sanctuary, the closest branch of Waterstones available to her.

She felt so useless right now, she had done all her necessary work but wasn't quite motivated to start working on the large assignment due in January, she had read through her script three times but didn't have a rehearsal until tomorrow evening, did absolutely nothing to help Anne, barely been able to cook for the others, and now she can't even buy a blooming birthday present! What's next? Will she forget how to tie her shoelaces and end up having Fanny do it for her?

Knowing her luck it will happen and then no one will want anything to do with her because she was so bloody useless.

Wandering around aimlessly in Waterstones did nothing to cheer her instead it just created a two mile long list of all the books she really wanted to read but couldn't afford.

Life was crappy.

Cathy was wondering whether or not she had enough money for a Costa Coffee when she suddenly walked right into _another_ person. Seriously this was the fifth time this week alone and it was _Monday_.

"All right, Cathy?" George asked rather amused.

Cathy flushed a bright pink in embarrassment. Quite honestly if it wasn't for the fact her heart was so devotedly in love with Harry Tilney she might have developed a rather fluffy crush on George Knightly. She absolutely adored him, not in a romantic way, but in a way a very little kid would adore their awesome babysitter.

He was the big brother she never had. That is not to say she doesn't have a big brother but her brother was her Irish twin, they were so close in age that they were best of friends rather than a big brother and sister. Her brother had no protective instinct towards her and no obvious desire to care for her either. It is not to say that she wants a complete overprotective monster that some young girls have in older brother but just an older male figure in her life that she can relate to but be cared for by.

George filled that role admirably.

"No not really," Cathy confessed instantly, "I have no idea what to get Lizzie for her birthday."

"Ah," George said knowingly, "I had the same problem two years back when I was unexpectedly invited to a surprise birthday party for her. Do you know it's very difficult to shop for girls?"

Cathy inwardly snorted; she thought it was more difficult to shop for boys than it was for girls. At least there was always the back up of jewellery for girls there was nothing for boys! Unless you knew the guy really well you're most likely to end up spending days aimlessly wandering through shops trying to find something that just seemed right. Even if you do know the guy rather well it was still a difficult feat, Cathy fell back on favourite brand of chocolates or deodorant for the men in her family since she could never find something for them.

"I let you in on a secret about Lizzie though," George grinned.

"What?" Cathy asked curiously.

"Lizzie adores trashy vampire novels."

"Really? But she hates Twilight."

"Everyone has their exceptions and in her defence she did read all four books before she made a judgement on them which is something I certainly didn't do," George shuddered at the thought of reading the books, being forced to watch the first movie with Emma had been more than enough. "And honestly I'm just generalising there. She likes most vampire novels specially ones written for that teen horror genre it gives her a break from all the heavy reading and a laugh as well."

"Do you know which books she already has?" Cathy asked wondering if she should get Lizzie the latest Charlene Harris or Kelly Armstrong.

"Not all of them, no Austen House girl brings all of her books to London," George said, "Otherwise there wouldn't be any breathing room."

That was certainly true if Cathy brought all of her books there would be no room for her to take a single step in her room. She had collected several series of mangas over the years, as well as hundreds of novels that were either gifts, or finds in second hand bookshops and charity shops, and then of course all her childhood books with bold brightly coloured pictures and witty alliterations that were technically her younger siblings now.

"But I do know Lizzie has yet to read this series I have in mind," George said, "I asked Emma and Ellen to snoop for me. It's a thirteen book series and still in progress and I know where to get them cheap. We can get six each for a tenner down the road, you could get the first six and I can get the second six allowing Lizzie to pursue the rest of the series if she enjoys them."

"What if she doesn't enjoy them?" Cathy asked worriedly.

"She won't tell us," George shrugged, "or she will after she read them thoroughly and can write a mile long criticism either way they will get read and she'll be grateful on the day. It's not expensive and I know undergraduates like you are short on cash constantly."

"I don't know..." Cathy said. It was a risky move to suddenly buy a whole series for someone without knowing if they enjoy the author or not.

"Come on," George said persuasively. "If you feel so guilty about spending so little on her present I have no doubt you can buy the most fancy and expensive birthday card in the shop."

Cathy giggled at that and then nodded, "all right but first I want to get a coffee," she said nodding to the Costa sign.

"My treat," George said suddenly, "but you have to promise to not speak about any guy in your life. I like to pretend all six of you are innocent little angels who would never think of romance." Cathy full out laughed at that, glad that George had come to her rescue and was now entertaining her with his playful teasing. "I know, I know, hopeless dreams," George said in a mockingly mournful tone, "but I can keep pretending that none of you know what a guy is used for."

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

"Well that wasn't too bad," Lizzie said in rather forced cheerful tone. "I mean it's only the first rehearsal and we were just doing the read through."

"Oh shut it," Emma said rolling her eyes, "I know exactly what you really think about the rehearsal and I'll stand by what I said two minutes ago. It is just a read through, it is only the first one, and we have plenty of time to create a wonderful piece of theatre."

Lizzie raised her eyebrow and Emma twitched her lips in reply. In all honestly it was a terrible read through, only a handful of the cast could read Shakespeare properly without stuttering or mispronouncing things, several masterpieces were destroyed this evening and Lizzie the Shakespeare fanatic flinched at each despicable decibel uttered by imbeciles – Lizzie's words not Emma's.

"Aw shucks, Em," one of the cast members said directly behind Emma in the most stupidest voice she ever heard. "We're flattered."

"But you Ben!" Emma snapped whirling round to face the much taller boy. "You! I want none of that stupid voice you have put on the whole evening! I allowed it tonight because it is only the read through but from this moment onwards I want nothing but serious acting from you or so help me god-"

"But Emma!" Ben protested. "I'm playing the fool! I'm supposed to be comical."

"You're supposed to be witty," Lizzie said coolly, "not the village idiot."

Ben melodramatically moped his way to the bar while the others disappeared into corners in order to avoid Lizzie's wrath. Emma however rolled her eyes again at her club's antics and immediately made her way to Ellen, Fanny, and Anne who were all so eager to have a break from work that they agreed to having a drink at the pub with Emma.

"How was rehearsal?" Fanny asked.

"God you don't want to know," Lizzie moaned as she ignored the gentle chiding look from Fanny. "I just hope five weeks will be enough or it'll be another nightmare."

"I have no doubt that a nice cold and strong drink will cheer you up," Ellen said. "Just think you could have a certain they shall not be named directing you instead of Emma."

All five girls (Cathy had been one of the many to disappear in order to befriend Lizzie's victims – err she means the other members of the Drama Club) shuddered at the awful memory of their first production. Fanny and Anne had only been part of the audience but it was so horrific that they were easily persuaded to help Emma put on a far better performance in the second semester and then forever allowed themselves to be Emma's slaves – err she does mean techie and writer. Back to the point the director back then had been so useless at controlling wayward members and lacked vision that Emma was frustrated within two weeks and started planning her pitch on being director for the next production.

"Drinks," Ellen said firmly before she herded Lizzie and Emma towards the bar, "I need a proper conversation and I have a feeling you'll be unable to provide one until you have at least one drop of alcohol in your system."

"As is the student way of life," Emma grinned.

As they were waiting to be served the pub door opened again and Emma saw two people walk in, one of them being the most important person in her life since forever, and the other was the bane of Lizzie's life. Emma instinctively reacted by gripping on to Lizzie's wrist in a vice like grip.

"I don't know what has gotten into you recently," she murmured to the rather stunned Lizzie, "but you're resolving it tonight. I don't want any more embarrassing moments."

"What on _earth_ are you talking about?" Lizzie hissed back.

"He's my friend too," Emma reminded Lizzie of a fact she tends to forget often.

"All right, Emma, Lizzie?" George asked.

"Hello Emma, Elizabeth," Darcy said stiffly.

"I'm fine George," Emma replied, "and hello Darcy, back in the living world I see."

"I have to go to the bathroom!" Lizzie blurted out randomly. Emma raised an eyebrow before she suddenly became a little unbalanced as Lizzie wrenched her wrist free from her and ran off towards the bathroom. "Get me my drink, won't you? I'll pay you back," she called over her shoulder.

Emma looked up at George who had steadied her by putting his hands on her waist. "What on earth was that about?" he asked amused.

"I don't know ask your best pal over there," she nodded to Darcy, "he might know what he had done to piss Lizzie off this time."

If anyone else but Emma had been watching Darcy they might have thought he had turned to stone he was so motionless and expressionless but Emma knew Darcy better than that. She had known him for years now and she can tell when his shoulders make the slightest movement (the tiniest of flinches) and that when his eyes darken with sadness and righteous anger. She knew George could tell that Darcy was rather upset as well since he pinched her as a warning. The git! She'll have a bruise there for weeks now and knowing her luck she'll meet Mr Right this very minute and he'll think she's seeing someone else with thanks to that bruise.

"I haven't spoken to Elizabeth in a long time," Darcy said coolly, "so how would I know if I have upset her or not?"

Emma was no fool, she knew there was definitely _something_ going on and she was determined to find out what it was, "Before the summer holidays she was at least able to stand in your presence and now she can't, _what did you do_?"

"Emma!" George hissed.

"We did have an encounter over the summer," Darcy admitted. Emma knew as much even though Lizzie still persisted that Darcy was nothing but a pompous, arrogant, stuck up git, she was warming up to him in May and now suddenly four months later she would got to extreme lengths to avoid the man. Something must have happened in between that Lizzie has been hiding from her. "But I will not discuss it behind Elizabeth's back. If she wishes to tell you she is more than welcome to, I have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Emma raised another eyebrow at that. She's beginning to wonder if she should just glue one eyebrow higher than the other since she is forever raising one of them. Would that make her permanently sceptical or permanently confused? Neither sounded appealing.

If Darcy had nothing to hide or be embarrassed about but Lizzie did then it obviously meant one of the two things...Darcy either saw Lizzie in a very embarrassing situation (naked or in her underwear instantly comes to mind, Lizzie had always been a bit of a prude) or he had met Mrs Bennett who is more than embarrassing.

Whatever it was it was beginning to get frustrating.

"I don't suppose you can apologise to her and make friends?" Emma asked. "I was hoping you can come to our Halloween Spook Fest and you can't do that if Lizzie keeps hiding every time she sees you."

"I wouldn't be able to go anyway," Darcy said without any emotion (but Emma could see his eyes had lightened up and the corners of his lips were twitching upwards in amusement), "it is half term for my sister's school and I wish to spend it with her."

"Damn," Emma said good naturedly, "Oh well you better make it up to me by buying my drink, and Lizzie's too while you're at it. That way I can get a fiver for nothing."

George scolded her for that later but it was definitely worth it to see the smallest of smiles on her friend's face.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damnit!

Lizzie scrunched up in a corner of the cubical. She buried her face into her lap and gripped hold of her hair tightly so the slightest movement could tear out several unwanted thick curls out. Maybe if she was bald Darcy won't pay her the slightest bit of attention and then she could move on with her life?

What is wrong with that guy anyway? Why couldn't he leave her the fuck alone? Come on she wasn't that special to be worthy of the super-amazing, dirty rich, practically royalty, Darcy Fitzwilliam, and yes that was all sarcasm. Honestly she just wants her undergraduate degree and nothing else, couldn't he just find some new friends and leave hers alone?

She doesn't need him in her life right now, she has too much on her plate, first her work load has increased insanely since the semester started, then Jane keeps phoning her, emailing her, texting her, with tearful messages about how much she missed Charlie – she hasn't had a full night of sleep in weeks –, and now she has the play to rehearse for as well. She doesn't need Darcy Bloody Fitzwilliam to come waltzing in and being the prick he is!

Her face was burning now. Her skin hasn't felt this hot since she accidentally got sunburnt severely at age seven. This is the nightmarish effect Darcy has on her! This is why he has to leave her alone!

She sat up and pressed a burning red cheek against the cold tile and swore again.

_**Goddaminit! **_

Why can't she get the feeling of Darcy's lips against hers out of her head?

**Author's Note: I want to apologise for any confusion about the whole Fred/Freddie thing. For some reason I had convinced myself that his nickname with Anne was Freddie when I had stated it was Fred in the first chapter (I had to remind myself of this while I was writing this chapter). So in the future it is Fred and not Freddie and please consider any time I have used Freddie as a typo. I honestly don't know where Freddie came from at all. Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review! **


	8. Chapter 7: Birthday Surprises

_Rule Number 13: if Lizzie is being unreasonable we are allowed to pull the 'you purposely slammed the door in your mother's face' card.  
_**Here, here!  
**_Rule Number 9: birthdays are for just us girls and a couple other people. No big parties, no big nights out, or we'll end up losing someone again.  
_**Or have the house trashed completely like the last time we invited the whole Drama Club for a birthday party.  
**_Rule Number 10: no one is allowed to forget someone's birthday.  
_**My birthday being in August is no reason for anyone to forget.  
**_Rule Number 11: Emma is not allowed to purposely break the boiler ever again. No matter the reason.  
_**I said I was sorry! Trust me I paid for it every second I was home for Christmas! - **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse.**_

Her phone trilled to life with the usual ringtone for her sisters blaring in her ear. Lizzie rolled over and groaned. For god sake can't a girl sleep in on her own birthday? Never before has Lizzie ever desire to punch Charlie Bingley's face in – his sister's most definitely, but not his – ever since he broke up with Jane and apparently moved here in London (most likely he's lurking in one of the richest areas as Lizzie fumbled for her phone) Lizzie hadn't slept a full night.

Thank lord that Jane was phoning at half seven in the morning this time and not three am like the last time.

"Jane," Lizzie moaned into the phone, "it's too ear-"

"Happy Birthday to you," a group of females, one loud piano and one unenthusiastic male crooned into her ear, the sudden and unexpected outburst caused her to yelp and almost fall out of bed. Her family continued to sing regardless. "Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to Lizzie, Happy Birthday to youuuuuuuuuuuuu."

"Oh Happy Birthday my darling," her mother shrilled eagerly, "twenty one years old, my little girl is now a lady! Oh I cannot believe it, my smart little girl a grown up. Did you receive our presents we sent them in the post a couple weeks ago? Have you opened them before or were you waiting for now like a good girl?"

"Presents?" Lizzie frowned, "I haven't received anything in the post since I asked you to send my dictionary Lydia nicked."

"I had to check something," she could hear her youngest sister mutter.

"You haven't received your presents?!" her mother squawked in her ear. "Oh Mr Bennett it's as I feared! The postman has stolen all of Lizzie's presents! I knew we shouldn't have send them through the post we should have visited her in person! Oh what to do?" my poor nerves I can-"

Lizzie knew full well that her mother was going to screech for another ten or so minutes before her father will calm her down. By the time her mother finishes she wouldn't have had the chance to speak to her sisters since they would have left for school. Apart from Jane, she wouldn't have work for another full half an hour giving her enough time to tell Lizzie how she dreamt about Charlie Bingley's smile.

Honestly if she has to hear about Charlie Bingley's gentle smile and how Jane misses his touch she will hunt the git down and wring his neck.

Anyway, taking advantage of her mother's ranting, Lizzie crept to her desk, put her phone down gently, and hurriedly rushed back into bed and almost succeeded in falling asleep.

Until her door creaked open and she heard Ellen somewhere above her, "I'm sorry Mrs Bennett Lizzie had to run into the bathroom I will get her to phone you back in the evening." Lizzie smirked into her pillow she had no doubt that her mother will be fuming for a good hour or so before her father either manages to talk some sense into her or distracts her enough to forget about the whole ordeal. Either way she was off scot free. Well from her mother anyway, her bed creaked as Ellen sat on it and suddenly nudged her hard in the ribs. "Time to get up," she said, "if your mother can wake me up in the other room I have no doubt you're wide awake."

"It's my birthday I deserve to sleep in," Lizzie whined.

"Yes but you have also promised to work on your dissertation report with Anne today," Ellen reminded her. "You need to give it in to your dissertation supervisor before the weekend so they can work on the redraft with you, remember? It's due in less than a week."

Lizzie moaned and almost sobbed at the whole idea. She loved her dissertation...okay that was a lie; she was fascinated about the subject but was struggling to form any articulate thought to create an eight thousand word essay. To top it off she hated the vagueness of the report, how exactly was she going to tell a bunch of examiners who will never meet her why her topic fascinates her and how much research she has done without sounding like a complete moron?

Truthfully it may only be a thousand words (which on a normal day she can do it her sleep) but it will take her all day to write especially since she agreed to help Anne with hers.

"Up and at them birthday girl or I'll tell your mother that you purposely slammed the door in her face that one-"

Lizzie had never moved so quickly in her life...well okay she had never moved so quickly in the last month but the point was Ellen's blackmail worked like a charm.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

George arrived at Austen House in time to rescue Emma from ending up in hospital, and no that wasn't an exaggeration, his best friend and adoptive baby sister were on the chairs trying to fix up a banner when Cathy tugged a little too hard and sent Emma flying face first off the chair. Without a single thought, his heart suddenly frozen with fear, he rushed forward and grabbed hold of her waist behind before settling her feet back onto the chair.

"Honestly can I not leave you for five minutes without you getting into trouble?" he demanded. Emma said nothing but George was pretty sure she rolled her eyes at that. "Don't deny it," he teased her. "You always end up in trouble."

"Nice to know I'm loved, huh?" Emma directed to Ellen who grinned as she pinned up some balloons. "Are you going to just stand there George or are you going to help with the decorations?"

"It looks like you ladies have it covered," George grinned. "Besides I think Fanny needs more help in the kitchen."

"Nah we're ordering Chinese," Emma said as she stuck the last tack into the banner, "she's just baking a cake."

"You can help with the drinks though," Ellen said as she helped Cathy down from the chair. Cathy hopped down like a small frightened bunny clutching the older girl's hand desperately. Obviously not a fan of heights. "We have yet to make a couple pitchers of Lizzie's favourite cocktail and she will be back in an hour or so."

"All right then! Be prepared for the best and strongest sex on the beach you ever had," George said cheerfully as he dumped his present onto the table, and slipped another when Cathy and Ellen giggled, and Emma rolled her eyes.

"Honestly if you said it to anyone else they would think you were trying a terrible line on them," Emma muttered before she picked up a balloon and tried to inflate it.

"As much as I would love to see you turn your face purple," George retaliated, "I have kitchen duties."

Whatever Emma said had been muffled by the balloon she was failing to blow up but George had a feeling it was along the lines of 'work slave, work'. Emma would have been a remarkable empress somewhere with that bossy attitude. He was so immersed with the idea of her being draped in jewels and silks while men did her bidding as always that he didn't realise that Cathy had followed him until Fanny smiled at them warmly and greeted them both.

"It smells divine in here," Cathy said dreamily as she inhaled longingly. "I wish I could bake like you Fanny."

"Thank you," Fanny blushed at the compliment and focused on the icing she was mixing, "this is good practise for the bake sale next week. We're raising money for children in need and it has been so long since I baked that I'm worried I'll end up selling burnt cupcakes."

George pulled out the pitchers from the cupboard under the sink and grimaced at the sight of them. They hadn't been used since the end of exams before the summer and obviously had collected a lot of dust...and maybe a spider or two but don't tell Mr Woodhouse or he'll send in all sort of exterminators and Emma will end up sleeping in his bed again while he's stuck on the sofa. He set to work at washing them up using a distracted and rather dreamy Cathy for drying up.

"I volunteered to sell them since I can't bake," Cathy mumbled as she stared longingly at the mixing bowls. "They gave me extra IT lessons after I almost burnt the school down that one time. So I can work databases easy peasy but baking...I wish I can help you, it's going to be a nightmare to do so many cakes in so little time."

"You can help," Fanny said quickly, "if you follow my instructions completely I am sure that you can bake a very nice batch of cakes for the bake sale."

"Really?!" Cathy squealed excitedly. George winced as he felt his ear drums wither in despair.

"Really," Fanny said in a much quieter but equally happy tone. She was quickly becoming his eardrums favourite person.

"You'll buy them won't you George?" Cathy asked. "The cakes I help make. You will buy them?"

"Of course," George promised. Whether or not he would eat them was an entirely different matter however. He had heard horror stories about Cathy's cooking and he really didn't want to risk his teeth or stomach lining. Fanny was definitely showing her faith in God by allowing Cathy to help out that was for sure. "Now come here and I'll show you how to make a sex on the beach. Don't worry Fanny," he added hastily, "I'll be making you a pitcher of mocktail."

"Thank you," Fanny smiled.

After making a couple pitchers, eating the leftover icing while Cathy helped Fanny ice Lizzie's cake and then help Fanny clean up the kitchen George was finally allowed to sit down on the sofa and actually relax while Emma piled presents on the table.

"What excuse did you use this year to get Lizzie out of the house?" George asked curiously.

Emma's excuses to get her friends out of the way for a surprise party have often been quite comical. Once she pretended the house was flooded when it blatantly wasn't, another time she had purposely broken the boiler which cost a fortune to fix and no one was amused that time (well, okay, at the time they weren't but it was funny now), and then there was another time she managed to convince Anne that she had an allergic reaction to something and needed to be rushed to the casualty centre. It didn't end to well for Emma but Anne had a lovely time and George got some blackmailing material out of it.

"No excuse this time," Emma said shooting him a dirty look. She knew exactly what he was thinking and he was certain he'll end up in some sort of revenge scheme. "Anne and Lizzie haven't finished their dissertation reports yet and needed to go to the library and work on them. Since, you know, we're so noisy and irritating."

"Glad you finally admit it," George teased, "ow! There was no need to kick me."

"Hush," Ellen chided them both gently.

George or Emma would have said something but just as they both opened their mouths George could hear Lizzie's voice echoing in the street and double footsteps heading towards the house. Closing his mouth quickly he followed Emma behind the sofa and quickly found himself sandwich between her and Ellen. Cathy was hiding under the table and Fanny ducked behind the armchair. With baited breath he could hear the rattle of keys over Emma's loud but slow, deep, even breaths, and then the door opening, Lizzie commenting on how quiet it was to a silent Anne, the door shuts, and then...

"SURPRISE!"

"SUR-OUCH!"

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

While they were waiting for Chinese food delivery boy to arrive Lizzie was very much so enjoying her sex on the beach, listening to her favourite music while Emma and George bantered, Ellen, Fanny, and Anne was discussing something, and poor Cathy was moaning on the sofa above her. Well really it served her right, who on earth hides under the table when they know they need to jump out? Though the bump on her head did look rather nasty and there was little an ice pack could do.

"Am I allowed to open my presents then or shall I tell my mother that the postman has indeed stolen them?" Lizzie mused allowed.

"Of course!" Emma cried out quickly tearing herself away from George and throwing the first brown parcel paper-wrapped gift at her Lizzie.

Soon enough Lizzie became the proud owner of several theological books (from her father), a new dress that didn't fit and was too frilly for her taste anyway (from her mother), a key charm necklace (from both of her parents), some cheap tacky make up from the twins, a CD filled with Mary's piano playing, and her favourite perfume from Jane. Her aunts and uncles, and godparents had all sent cards filled with vouchers or money, Colin and Lottie sent a book voucher as well, Ellen got her a couple DVDs, Cathy and George obviously collaborated and brought her almost an entire series of books, Anne and Fanny pooled their money together and brought her a very large gift basket from The Body Shop filled with her favourite creams, gels, and sprays. That left two gifts on the table, one medium sized package, and one small box.

She picked up the medium package that was neatly wrapped in a deep red wrapping paper, there was no card, no sudden vocal claim it was from one of the girls, and no sign or signifier to tell her who might have given her the gift. She slowly unwrapped the package it to reveal a beautiful leather bound book. It felt soft under her fingers and was a rich dark red colour with spectacular gold calligraphy that spelt out her name in beautiful curly letters. It was reminiscent of the time she saw Elizabeth I's signature in a museum years and years ago when she was a child.

"It's beautiful," she murmured in awe.

From the corners of her eyes she could see the girls exchanged bewildered looks, none of them had gotten her the book, George, however, appeared emotionless either he knew where it came from or he couldn't careless where it did come from. Lizzie was willing to bet money it was the former rather than the latter and decided to pump him for more information later.

"This one is from me," Emma said excitedly handing Lizzie the small box, "I hope you like it."

Emma's present was a small black box with gold ribbon wrapped round it. Lizzie instantly dreaded what could be in it. Emma never means to but she always makes the others feel very guilty when she presents her birthday present or Christmas present or just a general treat to them. She was incredibly rich and had nothing to do with her allowance other than spend it on them – her words not Lizzie's - and that always meant they got something ridiculously expensive while the best Lizzie could give her was something on sale. The box looked like it could be some sort of nice jewellery, already she had two pairs of very nice earrings, and a bracelet so expensive that she only ever wore on special occasions...that have yet to happen.

Slowly and rather reluctantly Lizzie untied the ribbon and opened the box to reveal...

...Paper?

"They're not great tickets," Emma jumped in quickly, "really crappy seats on afternoon matinee but still...it's West End and you haven't had a chance to go the theatre since Easter."

Lizzie picked up the ticket and it suddenly unfolded into six tickets, she raised an eyebrow at Emma, "am I supposed to take you then?" she asked dryly.

Emma flushed a little. "I just thought-"

"Or can I invite anyone? Because I may just give your ticket to George and leave you behind," Lizzie teased. "Oh maybe Ben will be up for it. Yes I think I might prefer his company over my very bossy direct-" A cushion smashed into her face silencing her for the total of two seconds. "You'll pay for that," she threatened before she threw it back. Emma yelped as it bounced off her head and landed on Ellen's knee.

There was a moment of silence before a cushion fight ensured it was needless to say that the delivery boy found them in fits of giggles and in need of new cushions.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

The only sounds in their flat were the microwave droning and the scraping of Darcy's knife against the toast. After failing to entice himself to eat by considering cooking something gourmet or going to a nice restaurant he ended up waiting for George before he felt he could eat. Since it was now too late to cook something decent and anywhere that was not a kebab shop would be closed he ended up making himself beans on toast while George was glugging water down.

The microwave beeped and Darcy pulled out the bowel and tipped the beans over his toast while George let out a sigh of bliss now having refreshed himself. They stood there in comfortable silence before George opened his great big mouth and ruined it all.

"So?"

"So?" Darcy challenged back as he rooted in the drawer for a fork.

"Don't you want to know?"

"Know what?"

"Now you're just being purposely difficult," George rolled his eyes, "don't you want to know if Lizzie liked her present?"

"I assume that she enjoyed it or otherwise you would have come home looking like a kicked puppy trying to let me down gently," Darcy pointed out. He wasn't in the mood to play games and just wanted to eat his beans on toast...urgh why didn't he cook something earlier? "So there is no need to play silly games."

"You're an arse, I hope you know that," George grinned. "She didn't say if she liked it or not but anyone with eyes could tell she loved it. She kept staring and touching it in awe."

Darcy smirked inwardly at the thought of Elizabeth's beautiful face softening in wonder as she her thumb gently stroked the soft leather of the notebook. The mental image was certainly worth the money the custom made book cost. He can almost see her enchanting eyes widening in childish wonder, her lips relaxing into a small smile, and a slight glow to her cheeks making them appear a little rounder than they actually were.

"Oi," George nudged him hard enough to almost make him spill his dinner down his front, "stop looking like the cat that got the cream, you smug git. I swear you're worse than Emma."

"Drunken sot," Darcy replied.

"Love sick fool."

"At least I admit it."

"Oh shut up."

This, Darcy thought contently, was the good life. And the only thing that would make it better would be the presence of a beautiful dark haired girl and her blonde best friend.


	9. Chapter 8:An Amendment to the Rules

_An Amendment: Cathy is no longer allowed to do any sort of cooking duty – that includes the one night a week rule, baking for charity sales, and anything more than fixing herself a sandwich or making some toast.  
_**Unless we are in severe need for some more very good doorstoppers (honestly Cathy don't worry, George is fine now) - **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse.**_

Rehearsal was a disaster..._again_.

In all fairness half the cast had now grasped how to get their tongues round the various odd words and phrases that made up Shakespeare's magical and poetic language. However, Emma had announced earlier that evening that they will work on blocking, not only did several people crash into one another with their heads still in their scripts but Ben dropped Cathy five times...once he managed to bash her head on a table. Lizzie and Emma was furious, so were the other cast members but only because it meant they had to do the scene again, and Ben was in the doghouse figuratively speaking.

"Just get yourself an orange juice or something," Lizzie ordered Cathy as they entered the pub, "I don't think you should drink after banging your head on the table like that. Perhaps we should take you to the hospital in case you have a concussion?"

"I'm fine!" Cathy protested. "I've hit my head plenty of times and never had a concussion before!"

"You've hit the back of your head on the edge of the table before?" Lizzie raised a sceptic eyebrow.

Cathy flushed in embarrassment. One of the more comical scenes in the play is when Celia is being carried on stage by the fool alongside with some bags, to accommodate future bags Emma decided to copy the movie and recent productions by having Ben give Cathy a piggyback, therefore Cathy somehow managed to slide off Ben's back, land on the table, and her head swung back right into the edge making a loud – and rather sickening – bang. Fortunately for her it had not been the first time this has happened the very last time her brother had given her a piggyback had ended exactly the same way...

Her mother called her the clumsiest child in Britain for a reason, you know.

"How are you still alive?" Lizzie muttered obviously translating Cathy's silence and pink flushed cheeks as a yes.

"Dad calls me a miracle child," Cathy mumbled feeling her cheeks grow hotter.

"So can you turn water into wine?" an amused voice laughed behind them.

Cathy wasn't sure if she could blush anymore than she was now if it was possible her head might spontaneously combust she was so hot and red. She probably looked like a traffic light. Oh the _shame. _

"You're teasing me again, Mr Tilney!" she scolded furiously.

"You make it so very easy and an enjoyable task," Harry grinned, "how is your head? Emma just regaled me the whole tragic tale, should I pray for you tonight?"

"And every other night until this cursed play is over with," Cathy replied rather dramatically, "I am certain I shall never remember my lines!"

"I am sure you'll be fine," Harry argued, "you have a superb memory when it comes to literature and that's all what this is really."

Cathy smiled weakly back. She wished she had his striding confidence about this but quite frankly she sucked, in fact she sucked on so many levels that she was certain on opening night Shakespeare will come back from the dead to smite her down for butchering his beautifully composed prose and verses..._oh god_ she was going to die. She was going to die and burn in hell for butchering Shakespeare!

Harry seemed to sense that she was troubled since he quickly changed the topic. "Are you going to contribute to the bake sale later this week?"

"Oh yes!" Cathy enthused. "I will be helping Fanny bake fairy cakes and a few other treats. We were thinking of rock cakes since they are the easiest to bake and I've never been the greatest cook around."

"That's an understatement," Lizzie muttered under her breath.

Cathy pretended she hadn't spoken at all while wondering if she could get away with stomping on her so called friend's foot.

"I'm sure you're not that bad," Harry said encouragingly.

Lizzie burst into a coughing fit which Cathy took full advantage of by hitting her hard on the back. "Thank you," she said to Harry.

"Would you like a drink?" Harry asked suddenly. "Then you can tell me all about rehearsal."

"I would love that!" Cathy cried out brightly.

She stepped past Lizzie to follow Harry to the bar when she heard Lizzie mutter to herself, "What am I? Invisible?"

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The kitchen smelt heavenly.

After a very long day of baking Cathy felt very satisfied, she and Fanny made a fantastic team, Fanny told her what to do and she did it efficiently and while their first batch was baking they washed up and started working on the second batch, and then repeat. It got a little dull after batch five and Cathy very mischievously spiced it up by flicking flour into Fanny's hair. Fanny surprisingly retaliated with full force and blew flour in Cathy's face.

Neither Lizzie nor Ellen was impressed with the mess they made in the kitchen and they were forced to clean up once more before they even managed to make a mix for their sixth batch.

Now they had eight batches of four different kinds of cakes – fairy cakes, chocolate cupcakes, rock cakes, and, well all right they made a biscuit, chocolate chip cookies. The second batch of rock cakes was made by Cathy herself without any direction from Fanny. In fact she had managed to do it all while Fanny was cleaning herself up in the bathroom! And for once they weren't burnt or sunken or something dreadful!

"Oh what is that heavenly smell?" George moaned as he wandered into the kitchen. Any other strange guy and Cathy would have shrieked about what a pervert he was and demand to know how he got into her kitchen but almost two months of living in Austen House had made Cathy accustomed to George wandering in whenever he wanted. He did, after all, own the only spare key available. "It's making me hungry," he said reaching out for a rock cake.

Fanny blushed at the praise while Cathy merely watched with hopeful eyes. The cake he had just picked up was one of the ones she had baked by herself. Everything seemed to have slowed down like an episode of Merlin when they wasn't much to it so they make half the things slow motion to seem dramatic when they were really playing for time. For what felt like five minutes George slowly moved the rock cake to his mouth, opened it wide, and took a huge bite into the cake –

The sound he suddenly made was so uncharacteristic of him that Emma flew down the stairs with a shoe in hand thinking that one of the girls had seen a spider.

(Can you believe that Emma and Lizzie were the only ones that were _**not **_terrified of spiders? Cathy has never known someone so unnaturally brave before.)

"Where is it? What happened? Are you okay?"

"My tooth," George whimpered slightly.

"I'm sorry!" Cathy wailed. "I thought I did it perfectly this time!"

"What the hell did you put in that cake, actual rocks?"

"I don't know what I did wrong!"

Emma picked up one of the rock cakes Cathy had baked and dropped it on the floor. They all winced when it made a loud cracking noise and a crack appeared along one of the sides of the cake. "Jesus Christ, Cathy," Emma said in awe, "I think you just created a new weapon."

"I don't know how!" Cathy cried out. "Are you okay George?"

"I think I'm dying," George bemoaned.

"Honestly," Emma said somewhat scathingly, "and you call me a drama queen. Come on, best get you to the dentist and get your teeth checked out."

"I'm sorry!"

As Emma led out the groaning in agony George, Lizzie and Anne were coming home from a research session in the library, Lizzie rolled her eyes at George's antics but followed to help locate Emma's other shoe while Anne continued in the kitchen.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly.

"I almost killed George!" Cathy wailed suddenly bursting into tears. Why was she so useless in the kitchen? She was never going to impress anyone! She was going to be a running joke to everyone – the girl who can't cook for toffee! She'll never manage to keep herself alive. Oh my god how was she going to survive? She was doomed forever to live with her mother unless she manages to find a superman who can cook, clean, and do all the DIY stuff. "I'm a failure!"

Fanny gave her a wary one armed hug as Cathy sobbed helplessly into her shoulder and Anne tried to tell her comforting things like, 'no you're not a failure' and 'I'm sure the next time you'll do better, remember practise makes perfect' eventually she did calm down and happily accepted Anne's tissue to blow her nose.

"Here," Anne said passing her another tissue, "you have some flour on your cheek."

Oh the _shame!_

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Cathy was managing the cake stall with Harry Tilney.

Yes, she was very much on cloud nine – or she would be if it wasn't for the fact _someone_ told him all about the disaster with George last night. It had only been half an hour, and if it wasn't for the fact she didn't want to damage his pretty face, she might snap and punch him for all the teasing he was doing.

"You'll be giving poor Hagrid a run for his money with your rock cakes," he chuckled.

"It's not funny!" Cathy wailed. "I could have killed George!"

"I doubt that," Harry said gently though he was still grinning like a maniac, "I reckon you did the only damage possible with those cakes."

"I'm never going to be able to cook," Cathy moaned, "I'm so useless."

"Now I wouldn't say that," Harry reprimanded her, "you are a wonderfully intelligent girl with different talents. It hardly matters if you can cook or not since it's not a career you want to pursue."

"But what about in the future when I want children? How will I ever be able to feed them if I keep making something dangerous or burn the house down or just you know something stupid?"

"Then you're quite fortunate that I'm a reasonable cook, aren't you?"

It took her a while to realise what he had meant and when she did she flushed a bright pink that caused him to laugh not unkindly at her but enough to convince her that he had been teasing once more.

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It was now Halloween and the girls (plus George) were crowded in the living room ready for their spook fest. Snacks were laid out, pitchers of spooky cocktails (with the recipes nicked from pub walls) were made, and the girls were already comfortable. Cathy hogged an armchair while holding onto a cushion tightly while Lizzie, Anne, Fanny, and Ellen was squishing themselves onto the sofa.

After last year's horror flicks sending Fanny into a fight of fright they weren't going to take any chances and leave her sitting on her own.

George found he had to make do with the floor and once he got himself somewhat comfortable he suddenly found himself a lapful of Emma. "Comfortable?" he raised an eyebrow pointedly.

"Very," Emma said cheekily. "Now I promise you all you'll be scared...but not too scared," she added hurriedly for Fanny's sake, "it's quite moderate in the gore department I promise."

"It's not about a certain horrific rock cake that has been haunting me for the last few days, is it?" George grinned – and then grimaced, it was still a bit too painful.

"Sorry!" Cathy squeaked behind her cushion.

Lizzie kicked his back, "it's your own fault, you just had to help yourself without asking," she pointed out.

"Let's just watch the films, yeah?" Emma jumped in before any arguing started.

The first film had been mildly boring in George's opinion and so was the second one that was almost drowned out by the pitter patter of the rain and the girl's giggling at the over the top acting in what was becoming a rather crap film. Then finally as most of the snacks were gone and the only thing left in the pitchers were dregs they were stuck in on a truly terrifying film. George got the chills and was unable to tear his eyes from the screen. He held onto Emma a little more tightly than usual and he could barely make out Cathy hiding further and further behind her cushion from the corner of his eye. His senses were heightened particularly his sense of sound as he could hear Fanny inhaling sharply, Ellen starting to chew on her lip, Lizzie tapping her fingers nervously, and Anne scraping her nails into the upholstery. He could feel Emma squeezing his arm and then-

_BANG!_

The girls all screamed and George let out a very manly yelp.

"W-what was that?" Lizzie choked out trying to sound her usual calm and witty self. She failed obviously. "It sounded like it was coming from outside."

"Maybe it's a serial killer!" Cathy shrieked behind her cushion.

Fanny moaned quietly and George was pretty sure if he turned to look at her she would be burying her head into either Lizzie or Ellen's shoulder right now. He could almost hear Ellen's whispered words of comfort and the feel the heat of Lizzie's glare that would most definitely be directed to Cathy right now for scaring Fanny. "Don't be stupid," Lizzie scoffed though she didn't sound as confident as she usually did.

Blimey that movie has certainly done a number on all of them, hasn't it?

(By the way he was certain he will never get the feeling back in his right arm as Emma was squeezing it _that _tightly.)

_BANG!_

They all jumped and Emma held George's arm close to her chest now as her head ducked a little. He knew full well she had her face scrunched up and her eyes shut tightly as if to block the whole world out. She always did when she was terrified. Ever since she was three and John told her that horror story that gave her nightmares for weeks, honestly who told horror stories to a three year old?

"Someone should go out and see what it is," Anne whispered.

"Well since you suggested it I think you should go," Lizzie jumped in quickly.

"_What?!_ But I'm one of the youngest I think it should be the eldest who goes out, so that makes it Emma or Ellen," Annie fumbled quickly.

"It's probably some trick or treaters," Emma mumbled from behind George's arm, "they'll go away in a bit."

_BANG!_

They all jumped again and George's other arm wound itself round Emma, you know, to keep her on his lap so she wouldn't fall off and bang her head on the floor in fright. No other silly reason like he was spooked himself or anything...

"Oh for Christ sake one of us has to go and see!" Lizzie snapped.

"Well, you go and look!"

"Me? Why me? As the most intelligent in the room shouldn't I be preserved and someone else goes and takes a look?"

"As the most confident smug one you certainly deserve to be murdered first!"

The girls would have definitely continued to bicker behind George for the rest of the night until the rain stopped, the banging long gone from their minds and the sun was starting to rise if it wasn't for the ghostly voice that started up.

"_Ellen_!" the eerie voice called out. "Ellen, let me in!"

"It wants Ellen!" Cathy whimpered.

"Hang on," Ellen frowned (at least George was certain she furrowed her eyebrows in her usual light frown when she was thinking). "I know that voice."

"Ellen, it's me," the voice cried out as it continued to bang on the front door, "you know, your _little sister_ Marianne, let me in will you, it's freezing out here and raining!"


	10. Chapter 9: The Wild Dashwood Sister

_Marianne's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor's. She was sensible and clever; but eager in everything; her sorrows, her joys could have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting: she was everything but prudent. The resemblance between her and her mother was strikingly great. - Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen. _

Marianne Dashwood was beautiful.

So beautiful that Cathy couldn't help but grimace a little. Even though she was soaked to the bone, was blatantly wearing her worst clothes, and no makeup at all, Marianne still outshone them all. Cathy always knew that she wasn't the prettiest girl in the room but right now she felt like a frumpy slob. _Poor Ellen_, she thought grimly, _imagine having to grow up knowing your younger sister is the pretty one_.

It was not to say that Ellen wasn't pretty in her own right but compared to Marianne...

Cathy grimaced again. Yeah, no girl would want to be compared to Marianne and it was cruel to the other girl to try.

There was an awkward silence as they all sat in the kitchen with their mugs filled with piping hot tea. Marianne was taking a deep drink out of hers while everyone just sat there staring at her. Fanny was discreetly trying not to look at Marianne as she kept ducking her head down over her tea while Anne kept turning bright red whenever Marianne so much as peered in her direction and quickly turned her head to look at the wall. So far only Emma, George, and Lizzie managed to keep eye contact with the stunningly beautiful Marianne while Cathy has yet to attract the rather glamorous Marianne's attention.

"So," Marianne said finally breaking the silence, "Let me guess, you're Fanny," she said pointing to the meek blonde. Fanny was so surprised she jumped slightly and spilt a little of her tea all over the table.

"Yes!" she squeaked a little then she saw what happened and looked dismayed, "Oh no!"

"I'll clean it up," Lizzie reassured her. She leaned over her chair to the sink and pulled out the sponge before leaning across the table.

"You must be Lizzie then," Marianne said.

"Uh-huh."

"Which makes you Anne, you Emma, and you must be George or are you Darcy?" Marianne said pointing to each of them. "No don't answer!" she cried out as George opened his mouth. "You seem friendly so you must be George," Lizzie snorted and the others struggled not to smile at that, "Ellen has described you all very well but the question is...who are you?" her sea-blue eyes suddenly zoomed in on Cathy who now felt six inches tall. She didn't want this glamorous Dashwood Sister's attention on her. She would much rather be under the scrutiny of her strict Calvinist grandmother – wait on second thoughts...

"That's Cathy," Ellen said stepping into the kitchen with a big fluffy towel on her arm, "which you would know if you have read any of the emails I have sent you in the last two months."

"I was busy," Marianne said dismissively.

"Of course," Ellen said in a slightly cool tone that made Cathy jump it was so unlike Ellen to be cold, "why are you here Marianne? I thought you were having fun in Ireland."

"Ireland got boring," Marianne yawned dramatically, "so I thought I could join you in London until I sort myself out. You know, get a job and my own place."

"Here? In London?"

"No, boring old Norfolk," Marianne said sarcastically, "of course London, where else? This is one of the biggest cities in London we have people from all sides of the world and life here. It's buzzing with excitement and energy and I want to be part of that. I promise I won't be here for long just a month tops. Please let me stay Ellen."

"It's not just my decision," Ellen said, "others live here too."

Suddenly Cathy and the others were back in Marianne's attention as she widened her eyes, fluttered her ridiculously long eyelashes (they can't be real, can they?) and pouted her plump lips ever so slightly. "I promise to do my fair share while I'm here," she said pleadingly, "I won't take up much space and I'll obey any rules you set out for me."

"I...I don't see why you cannot have the airbed," Anne said softly, "Ellen's room is certainly big enough for the two of you."

"Of course you can stay," Fanny melted completely.

"Err...sure," Cathy said unsure of what she should really say.

Marianne turned her pleading eyes to Lizzie and Emma. Lizzie rolled her eyes to Emma, who in return raised a blonde eyebrow, Lizzie acknowledge that with her own eyebrow, and Cathy felt like she was intruding on a secret silent conversation between the pair. A battle of wills, of sorts. In the end Lizzie sighed impatiently and her eyebrow drooped back into its normal place. "Your house, Emma," she said.

"If you follow the rules and give a little input with the rent," Emma said, "I cannot see why you can't stay here."

Marianne squealed and got up to hug everyone. "Thank you!" she said as she hugged a stiff Lizzie, "you won't regret this at all, I promise."

"Better not," Lizzie grumbled.

Marianne made her way round the table hugging each and every one of them. When she hugged Cathy, Cathy was suddenly overwhelmed by Marianne's sweet perfume (something sugary sweet, like doughnuts or something) and flowery hair (an Herbal Essence shampoo, certainly) as well as the surprising comfort her slim shoulder provided. Hugging Marianne was like hugging a fairy tale princess, sweet, comforting, and rather surprising.

As well as very wet since Marianne was still soaked to the bone and her hair was beginning to drip a little as well.

"Come here," Ellen said with some impatience, after she hugged her sister once more she wrapped the towel round Marianne. "So tell us about Ireland then."

The rest of the night was spent sitting round the kitchen table with several cups of tea to keep them all awake and Marianne regaled them with wonderful tales about the rather wild Ireland. Cathy can honestly say this was the best Halloween she had had in years whether Lizzie agreed with her or not was an entirely different subject though.

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Ellen woke up to find Marianne's bed empty.

The sensation of dread was slowly filling her stomach, as much as she loved her sister she knew wherever she went danger followed, and it was very likely that the kitchen exploded or something in her sleep. Not that Marianne was a terrible cook or anything but because she might have knocked a bottle of something flammable and then leaned on the hob's buttons, turning it on and setting the place on fire. Okay, okay maybe she was exaggerating but this was the girl who managed to cause a riot in school by fluttering her eyelashes at someone who wasn't her boyfriend at the time.

Wrapping herself in her wonderful fluffy dressing gown, Ellen went downstairs to find Marianne humming as she cooked breakfast. The table was set, with a small bouquet of flowers in a jug, newspapers were placed between two of the plates, and a slow steady pile of toast was being made in between Marianne frying what smelt like bacon and eggs.

"Where did you get the money for all this?" Ellen asked. "You told me last night you were skint."

"I borrowed some money from that jar," Marianne said, "and is that the way you greet everyone in the morning or am I just that special?"

"Good morning, Marianne," Ellen rolled her eyes knowing if she didn't say it now her sister will never let it go, "And you did _what?_ Marianne that's the money for our food!"

"And that's what I brought!" Marianne said cheerfully. "Well that and some flowers to say thank you, some newspapers, and I really needed some toiletries."

"So you steal mine like you used to when we were still living together!" Ellen half yelled. "Not steal everyone's money!"

"I'll give it back, Jeeze it was only forty quid," Marianne rolled her eyes, "now sit down, I'll make you a coffee or have you gone back to drinking tea? And then you can read your favourite newspaper, see I left it by your plate."

Ellen pressed her lips together and bit her tongue wishing she could scold her little sister some more. She hated it when Marianne was so flippant over money, it didn't grow on trees, and they needed to keep to a strict budget, not spend it on flowers and newspapers! The news is now available free on the web these days.

Silently she sat down, poured out her own drink of coffee, and read the newspaper without a word to her sister. Cathy, Fanny, and Anne came down next and once they finished their breakfast (and politely chatted to Marianne) they rushed out, the former two for Church, and Anne to the library before it shut early. Lizzie and Emma were the last to rise; Emma was chatty and friendly as ever with Marianne while Lizzie continued to eye her suspiciously. Ellen had no doubt that Lizzie already knew how Marianne paid for today's breakfast, after all Lizzie was the smartest one out of the girls.

Eventually Emma left because she promised to have Sunday dinner with her sister ("And George promised to, so I wouldn't have to suffer those little monsters- I mean my darling nephews and nieces on my own."), and Lizzie slinked back upstairs when her phone rang again. This left Ellen to wash the dishes while Marianne lounged in her chair, flipping through the pages of the newspaper she brought Ellen, scoffing at anything she found amusing.

"Listen to this nonsense in the dating ads," Marianne called out. "THE DOCTOR F is desperately seeking to travel through time and space, perhaps more if she's willing. How sad is that? I bet that loser won't get any calls."

"There is nothing wrong with Doctor Who," Ellen mumbled.

She could almost feel Marianne roll her eyes at that. She always did when Ellen stood up for her interests in anything Marianne deemed to be 'geeky'. "Of course not," she said, "but you have to admit there is something very sad about someone using Doctor Who has a way to ask someone out on a date."

Ellen refused to say another word on the matter. Marianne's flippant words had stirred memories of a certain someone who did ask her a long time ago using Doctor Who as a way to woo her. Whether he did it intentionally or not was a different matter, either way she had to forget about him just like he forgot about her.

"So..." Marianne said suddenly aware of Ellen's silence, "Are Emma and George dating?"

Ellen couldn't help but grin and spent the afternoon trying to explain the true nature of Emma and George's relationship.

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He never once thought he would be back in London like this. He never once thought that London would be so _boring_. Was it always this _grey?_ This dull? So lacking of adventure? He had never considered himself someone reckless and adventure seeking but now he was away from the war...

He shuddered at the memory of the last attack that popped out of nowhere. It usually did, his therapist called it the usual names and prescribed him some help but it was really no use...Fredrick Wentworth was still in hospital with a missing arm because of him. The guilt tore him apart inside knowing that a young man, not even twenty one, has given up his arm in order to save his life.

The last time he had seen Wentworth had been his last day at the hospital. With nothing physically wrong with him (his limp, he had been told, was psychosomatic) he was released quickly enough with nothing but a small army pension and another medal for his efforts. Wentworth was still under observation and therefore had to stay although he was as cheerful as ever (i.e. indifferent and a tiny bit sullen like most young men) Chris couldn't help but feel that Wentworth blamed him for his loss. His sister certainly did as she glowered at him throughout the entire visit.

A voice broke into his thoughts. It was a beautiful, rich, melody that was accompanied by a strumming of a guitar. It had been so long since he heard music like that. he turned to see a young, and very beautiful, red-haired girl sitting on the pavement performing with a black hat in front of her slowly being filled up with pennies.

He halted to a stop to watch her.

She hadn't noticed him at first, she was so immersed with her music that she seemed in an entirely different world. He felt like he had just seen Titania, the fairy queen – and not the one in his all boys' school production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. The real deal. Eerily pale skin, red silk hair, and the inexplicable ability to enchant him. He had never been so captivated by a woman before. _Never._

She looked up as she finished her song and caught his eye. For a moment he felt like a love sick teenage boy, a deer caught in headlights, unable to move and unable to form coherent sentences, he was completely dumbstruck.

The girl gave him a small smile, as if she knew what he was thinking, and winked. Without a single thought about it he pulled out his wallet and threw down a note, he honestly didn't know how much he put into her hat, just that he did.

He stood back and turned to leave when some teenage boys pushed past him and a shrill angry squawk filled the air. He turned round in time to see the redheaded musician chasing after the boys who have stolen her hard-earned money, without a single thought he ran after her.

His blood was pumping, his heart was racing, and he suddenly felt happier than he ever had in a long time. He ran through the streets, pushed past people, and bumped into things as he caught up with the redheaded girl and then over took her. The teenage boys were beginning to slow down, obviously thinking they have gotten away or perhaps they were just so unfit, and he took advantage of this by tackling them to the ground.

"Oi! Get off of me, you pedo!" the boy yelled.

"Give the money back to the lady," he demanded.

"Like hell!"

He twisted the boy's arm behind his back, a dangerous thing to do these days but it was unlikely that the boy will go to the police considering he was mugging someone, "Give. The. Money. Back. To. The. Lady."

"All right, all right!" the boy whined. "Keep your hair on!"

Swiftly, he stood up and dragged the boy up with him. He turned in time to find that the redheaded girl had caught up with him, she clutched her guitar and his walking stick to her chest, and panted, and "Give...back...my...money...brat!" she snapped between heavy breaths.

Sullenly the boy drops the money.

"All of it," Chris commanded him.

More money dropped onto the floor, the pennies making a loud clattering noise, and the note Chris had dropped in almost blew away in the wind if the girl hadn't snatched it up quickly enough.

"Now say sorry," Chris ordered.

"Li-AH!" the boy yelped as Chris squeezed his arm a little harder. "I'm very sorry, Miss," he mumbled to the girl.

"Apology accepted," the girl said stiffly.

"On your way now," Chris flung the boy away from him, "and if I catch you stealing again, I'll drag you to the police by the ear."

The boy flushed bright red, flipped him, and ran off shouting insults. Chris just snorted to himself, he heard far worse in the army.

"Thank you."

He turned to see the girl smiling up at him as she held up his walking stick. With a great reluctance he took it out of her hands and smiled politely. "I was just doing my duty," he mumbled.

"Then you're the only dutiful man in the whole of England," she cried out, "I've been mugged five times this year and no one has helped me like you. Let me buy you a drink to say thank you."

"Oh no-"

"I insist."

She said it with such firmness that it startled him. Her green eyes were blazing and her pretty face was set with stubbornness, he could tell if he tried to argue the odds with her he would get absolutely no where. He smiled, "Chris Brandon," he said offering his hand to her.

She took it and gave it a firm shake, "Marianne Dashwood."

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Three hours later Chris was running again.

One drink had turned into five, and he found himself absolutely besotted with Marianne Dashwood. She was not only beautiful and musically talented but witty, intelligent, adventurous, cheeky, and downright troublesome. Just as they finished they started their fifth drink, someone bumped into Marianne and caused her to spill her drink all over her shit. Furious – add temperamental to her list of qualities, or more accurately as her sole flaw – she snarled something insulting to an already drunk man.

The drunken sot tried to intimidate her into a meek apology only to cause her to fly into a fury. Chris stepped in the moment the man raised his hand to hit her and punched him with so much force that he flew into a man behind him.

This started a bar fight and when the nearby police got involved they quickly slipped out of the door and ran for their lives.

There was something thrilling about holding Marianne's small hand as he ran along the Thames this Monday evening.

In fact there was something thrilling about this whole scenario. Since leaving the army, he had never needed to run or chase after someone, tackle someone, impose his authority, and fight. He had never in his life drunk on a Monday night and yet just one look from one girl, he was willing to guzzle down a galleon of vodka in church if she so much as asked him to.

It went against everything he had done in his life before and yet he was willing to do it for her.

He was certain that he was bewitched now.

"You," he gasped as they slowly jogged to a stop, "must be the most troublesome girl in all of England."

She throws her head back and laughs, "And what does that make you, the biggest sap in England? No one told you to fight my battles for me."

"Someone has to."

She shoots him a half irritated, half amused look. "You do realise this is the twenty-first century, right?"

"It doesn't matter what century it is, everyone needs a friend to fight their corner in a pub," he said firmly.

She laughs again when suddenly her phone chirps, and she snaps out of it. Pulling out a small and rather cheap looking phone, she reads her text message and grimaces. "I better go, my sister is doing her nut in and if I don't go home now she'll only moan about this for...oh probably forever."

"Where do you live? I'll walk you home," he offered. He didn't want their time together to end so soon.

She smiles but shakes her head. "Like I said, this is the twenty first century now. Us girls have been walking home by ourselves for almost a century now." she holds out her hand. "But thank you, for being nice and having a few drinks with me."

He shakes her hand and is surprised when she pulls him down and kisses his cheek with her plump, soft, and very red lips. He was sure there was a lipstick mark on his heated cheek now.

"And thank you again for saving my money," she added.

"Maybe we can meet up another time?" he asked desperately. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to know more about her.

She shakes her head again. "Destiny brought us here together today," she said, "I think we should wait to see if destiny wants us to meet once more before we start arranging to hang out with one another."

Chris said nothing. He should have known it was too good to be true. Marianne may have had fun with him tonight, she may be grateful, and she may think he is a good man, but at the bottom line he was a great deal older than her, and a cripple, and she was only nineteen years old with her whole life ahead of her.

"Goodbye, Chris Brandon."

"Goodbye Marianne Dashwood."

He watches as perhaps the most amazing and exciting person he has ever met in his life just walked right out of it within a day of meeting him.

The city, with all of its magnificent jewelled lights, suddenly turned grey once more.


	11. Chapter 10:Trouble Brewing

_Rule Number 4: a member of Austen House must confer with the rest of the House if it is okay to have guests round as well as keep them well informed of when and how long that visit is.  
_**I have you know that George was equally terrified that morning! – **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse. **_

Wednesday evening was not a happy affair in Austen House.

It was Ellen's turn to cook and while everyone normal had no complaints about her cooking, one mischievous redheaded 'I'm only here till I sort myself out' girl did, and it did nothing to improve Ellen's mood. The so called useful tips were nothing but interference and the sickly sweet comments like, "Oh smells good, but you know if you add paprika it would not only smell better but taste sublime," were beginning to anger the usually calm and sensible sister.

Therefore she certainly gave poor Fanny and Anne a shock when she suddenly slammed down the plates in front of them.

"Are you...okay?" Fanny asked hesitatingly.

"Oh ignore her," Marianne yawned as she stretched out in a catlike manner in her chair, "she's just in a mood because I came home late on Monday."

"And drunk," Ellen muttered as she slammed George's plate before him.

"Tipsy," Marianne corrected her airily, "Besides what was I to do while you lot were at the theatre without me?"

"Find a job like you said you were going to do."

"I did wander a bit, putting my CV in, and asking around but no one wanted to know," Marianne moaned as she prodded her dinner delicately with her fork. She pulled a face which infuriated Ellen even more though she bit her tongue and sat herself down before deliberately taking a huge bit of her dinner and enjoying it thoroughly. "Besides I ended up earning a fair bit busking on the streets. I paid you back, didn't I?"

Ellen said nothing as she continued to eat. She didn't want to go through this again with Marianne. Her scolding when Marianne finally came in on Monday went on deaf ears, and so did the scolding on Tuesday morning as her sister bemoaned about being tired, and now today Marianne seemed to have done nothing but laid back on the sofa, doing her nails and watching reruns while Ellen had been working a six hour shift on top of a heavy seminar and a meeting with a her dissertation supervisor. To top it off it was her night to cook and she was exhausted. Marianne was no help and the others only just arrived in time for dinner.

Her friends, whom she had never allowed to see her bad temper before, were awkwardly eating their dinner in silence. Even Emma and George were quiet and their demeanour seemed almost meek, unlike their usual bickering and playful kicking as always during a meal wherever they are.

When the silence was on the verge of becoming unbearable, Marianne spoke up again, "Oh, Mum phoned," she said, "she was all about me coming home. As much as I would love to see her, and dear Meg again, I honestly cannot abide the idea of being back in Norfolk again. Imagine what my days would consist of? Working and being the subject of gossip for the likes of the Jenkins," she shuddered delicately at that, "so I invited her and Meg to spend Reading Week with us!"

From the corner of her eye Ellen could see Lizzie shooting Emma her usual _I told you so _look. The one with her right eyebrow has been raised so high that it almost vanishes behind her fringe. The worst and most stinging _I told you so_ looks in Lizzie's arsenal. _Damnit to hell, Marianne! _She wanted to shriek. _Why do you always have to do what you want to do whenever you want to do it?_

"And you did so without conferring with me," Ellen said calmly instead, "or anyone else."

"I know, I know," Marianne rolled her eyes, "the rules. I'm doing it now, aren't I?"

"After you have invited people over," Ellen pointed out.

"Well?" Marianne asked looking to Fanny, Anne, and Cathy. "Would it bother any of you if my mother and little sister spent a week here? I mean most of you are gone, aren't you?" she turned to look at Lizzie and Emma as well.

"We are," Emma said carefully, "but not Anne, Fanny, and Cathy. I don't mind if your mother would like to sleep in my room. I take almost everything back with me whenever I go for a visit longer than a weekend."

"You're not kidding," George grumbled. "Ow! Emma there is no need to kick me!"

Ellen inwardly sighed as she knew two people to her cause were lost instantly, and to a game of footie under the table of all things! Lizzie said nothing because she could not say something, she was going for the entirety of Reading Week, and therefore apart from expressly asking for no one to step into her room, she had no right to say no. That left Anne, Fanny, and Cathy, and as much as she loves them, Ellen knew they will easily give into Marianne's persuasion.

"I will be at my work placement," Fanny mumbled to whatever question Marianne asked. Ellen seemed to have managed to miss it with her thoughts. "I'll be gone all day, for all the working days – apart from Saturday, so I really don't mind if you want to invite your family over."

"And I'll be working on my dissertation," Anne muttered flushing a dull pink under Marianne's gaze, "I can do that in the library though."

Marianne's gaze flickered to Cathy, "Oh!" Cathy cried out in surprise. As if she could not believe she would ever attract the attention of someone as beautiful as Marianne. Ellen cringed at that, this was the sort of thing that gave Marianne power over people to do whatever she wished, and Ellen will have to clean up the mess later. "Oh, well I'll be busy, I suppose, so of course your family can stay," Cathy flushed and looked at Ellen hopefully.

Ellen didn't have the heart to tell her that she got the answer wrong.

"Well," Lizzie finally said, "do whatever you like but no one is allowed to go into my room, got it?"

"We need a second bed for Meg!" Marianne argued instantly.

"We have a sofa," Lizzie pointed out.

"For a small child?"

"If that is what you class your maturity level, then yes."

There was a sharp silence as everyone breathed inhaled quickly and widened their eyes. Fanny looked horrified that Lizzie could be so insulting to someone's face; Anne looked as if she wanted to run out of the room without anyone noticing, and Cathy flushed even more. Ellen had no idea what to do, she could not defend her sister and she could not defend her friend (though she did want to), any diplomacy was going to be taken the wrong way.

Fortunately this is when Emma decides to pay attention again. "We can buy another airbed and put it in my room for your sister."

"Oh does this mean I get my bed back?" George asked. "I have had to actually stay in my flat since Marianne has come to stay. It's giving Darcy heart attacks to find me home for breakfast."

"Good," Lizzie muttered with a smirk. Her battle with Marianne now over, thank god!

"Nothing has stopped you from sleeping on the sofa," Emma sniffed.

"That lumpy old thing? It's not fit for a homeless person to sleep on what makes you think I will when I have a bed several streets away?"

"To see me, of course," Emma said sweetly, "and don't call our sofa a lumpy old thing!"

"It is!" George cried out, "And you're sure the reason I hang about here is for you? It could be for Fanny's baking you know."

"Oh! So now you're cheating on me with Fanny's baking?"

"Damn right I am!"

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

"Right that's it for tonight," Emma said the moment Lizzie finished her epilogue, "good work guys though some of you still need to work on your lines. Remember production week is in two weeks time. I'll be gone for Reading Week but Ellen will be holding a line bash both on Monday night and Thursday night next week. If you're still in town, be there or I'll work you to death the week after. Now to the pub!"

Grumbling most of the cast obeyed Emma leaving only Lizzie, Cathy, and Elton behind. Emma couldn't help but smile at that, ever since she started to talk to him about Fanny he has spent time lagging behind and walking her to the pub to learn more about her, her matchmaking plans were coming along nicely. Perhaps at the after show party Elton will ask Fanny out and Fanny will say yes, and even if it didn't work out beyond that first date at least Fanny has tried to get over Edmund.

Emma sighed quietly, poor Fanny has become more and more quiet lately, and that was always a sure sign something was wrong. She suspected that Edmund hasn't been in touch and she noticed a regular absence of Tom as well.

Her smile quickly turned into a frown when she saw the scowl on Cathy's face. The younger girl (who Emma adored like a little sister and has become quite protective of the little dear) had been checking her texts when a sudden scowl marred her pretty features and she shoved the phone furiously back into her pocket.

"Are you all right, Cathy?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Cathy mumbled, "just peachy."

"Really," Lizzie said dryly, "you don't look like a peach."

Cathy smiled weakly at the pun but didn't say a single thing. Emma placed a comforting hand on her arm, and squeezed it gently. "You know you can tell us anything Cathy," she said softly, "anything at all."

"It's...it's my brother, the jerk!" Cathy suddenly snapped loudly causing Elton to jump slightly. "I just got a text from Isabella of all people telling me that he's coming to stay with her for Reading Week!"

Lizzie's eyebrows flew up at that and Emma couldn't help but drop her mouth open either. "Oh...are they...are they dating, then?" she asked weakly. She knew little about Cathy's brother, only that he was a year older than Cathy, went to York University to study Law, and wasn't much use in advising Cathy in her First Year.

"No, but he's best friends with her brother," Cathy explained, "That's how we became friends. She recognised my name, James told her all about me you see, and she helped me out during the first couple weeks."

Yes because that didn't sound just a little manipulative. Emma had a terrible feeling that Isabella found Cathy as someone to manipulate into devotion and friendship, she seemed to be that type of person and it certainly would explain the lack of friends in her own year. Isabella used her connection to Cathy's brother and was using it again, that was for certain. She shared a look with Lizzie who nodded in agreement; she was having exactly the same thoughts as Emma.

"Well," Emma said hesitatingly, they had all agreed (Ellen, Fanny, Anne, Lizzie, George, and herself) that it would be best if they let Cathy break ties with Isabella in her own time without any encouragement from them, "I'm sure you'll have a great week with Isabella and James."

"I suppose," Cathy mumbled.

"Come on," Lizzie said slipping her arm into Cathy's, "Pub, we can have lots of drinks, complain about siblings, and enjoy our last night together."

Cathy smiled and they were just about to leave when Elton spoke up, "It is a shame that we have to make do without our lead and director next week," he said, "I fear rehearsal standards will slip because of it."

Emma couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor guy when Lizzie stared at him blankly and then said, "What the hell are you still doing here?"

The rather charming guy seemed to have literally wilted when he realised that Cathy and Lizzie hadn't noticed him for the last five or so minutes. Oh dear! She ended up spending her journey to the pub trying to cheer him up by telling him how much Fanny would admire his concern for the quality of rehearsals and the production.

He seemed to have cheered up a little until George arrived with Anne, Fanny, Ellen, and Marianne in tow, and Elton then, for some strange and unknown reason, wilted again and sloped off to sit with the others on another table. It looks like she will need to reassure him that Fanny and George were only friends.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Chris didn't know he ended up here.

He had spent his day walking round uselessly as ever. Although he didn't need to stay in London, he preferred to stay over going back to the property his father left him, and although he had enough money to live the rest of his days quietly, he needed a job just to keep himself occupied. He was so bored it was ridiculous. He started applying for small part time jobs near his bedsit, either they weren't employing or they took one look at his walking stick and weren't interested, he soon found himself going further and further away from his bedsit and now he was somewhere near a university campus, and it had gotten dark.

Admittedly he hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings – terrible for a soldier and it's moments like this that make him think no wonder he was ambushed so easily – and he was now a little lost.

None of this mattered, it didn't matter that he somehow got lost, it didn't matter that he had once again failed to get a job, and it didn't matter that he was alone in the streets at night where he could be attacked (that, actually caused a little inhale of excitement, finally something to do), but what did matter was he failed his secret mission to find her.

He had not found Marianne Dashwood again. Just as he failed the day before, and the day before that, and he was starting to think he will never find her. She could have left London, or gotten attacked, or worse had been a hallucination that his very bored mind had conjured up that afternoon...

Suddenly someone cashes into him and startled (when did he forget so much of his training, and stopped being so aware of his surroundings?) he staggered backwards as someone grabs hold of his arm and steadies him.

"God, I am sorry," the person said, "didn't see you at all, are you all right mate?"

"Yeah, fine," Chris mumbled.

"Again, really so- hang on, Chris? Chris Brandon is that you?" he stared at this man who was grinning manically at him. This person knew him but he didn't know this person, or if he did it was from another life before the army, before the war, and he cannot place the person at all. "It is you," the person said confidently, "It's me, Chris, George – George Knightly. Suppose you didn't recognise me now I'm taller and have a deeper voice."

Chris blinked, _George Knightly_? He vaguely remembered a small twelve year old boy who talked of nothing but about his little sister and how annoying she is. This was going back lifetimes ago when he was a spotty teenager who didn't know how to speak to girls and took his prefect duty too seriously. When the idea of joining the army was just a vague one. Blimey.

"Yes, of course!" Chris exclaimed out loud. "I remember now. How is your sister?"

George looked at him puzzled, "sister? I don't have a sister."

"Don't you?" Chris blinked. "Then which one was the kid that didn't stop talking about how annoying Emma was?"

"Oh! yeah that was me but Emma isn't my little sister, just a family friend," George said fondly as he was obviously remembering the girl he whined constantly about back then, "she used to write terrible letters telling me off for going away. Like it was my fault I was sent to boarding school," he snorted, "how are you?" he asked suddenly snapping out of his memories. "In fact, want to grab a pint?"

"Sure," Chris said, "why not?"

He was then ushered it what was obviously a student bar (oh that was another lifetime as well, god he feels so old right now) and after they were served George was suddenly hounded by a pretty blonde girl. "I thought you said you were going home," she said in a demanding tone as if to ask why he was still there, "did you suddenly realised how much you missed me and had to come running back?" she teased.

Ah, girlfriend then.

"Nah," George said, "I just bumped into an old friend and thought to catch up, speaking of which, Chris this is Emma, Emma this is Chris."

Emma instantly took his hand and shook it firmly but excitedly. There was something incredibly energetic and exciting about her that unnerved Chris a little but seemed to endear her completely to George. "Nice to meet you," she said brightly, "why don't you two boys sit with us girls?"

"We want to catch up and have man time, Emma," George moaned childishly, "not sit with all the girls and listen about hair products and which actor you fancy."

Emma snorted, "Please you're more of a girl than I am," she said.

Chris, feeling really uncomfortable about this childish teasing that seemed exclusively for them – the Couple, decided to speak up before George could reply to Emma's snarky remark. "Perhaps we should sit with the girls," he said holding up his walking stick, "I'm not exactly good for standing by the bar."

"Of course," George murmured softly and Emma's energetic spark dimmed to a gentle understanding.

For God's sake! He had a limp, he wasn't invalid! He didn't need the pity!

He said nothing as Emma led him and George to a table in the far corner where three brunettes (all varying shades), a blonde, and two redheaded girls sat together talking amongst themselves. His eyes were immediately drawn to the redheaded girls, one was a great deal curvier than the other, a little shorter, and had a cosy homey feel to her while the other girl was...

"Girls, this is my friend Chris Brandon," George said, "Chris this is Lizzie, Anne, Cathy, Fanny, Ellen, and Marianne."

The other girl was Marianne Dashwood.

Marianne smiled a smile so confident it bordered onto a smirk, "So it appears that destiny does indeed intend on us meeting again," she said as she held her hand out. He more or less just squeezed it affectionately than shook it, not that she seemed to mind, he needed to reassure himself that she was real and not a figment of his imagination.

"You two know one another?" George asked curiously.

"Oh," Marianne said flippantly, "Chris just rescued me from a mugger or two, as well as a bar fight."

"He _what_?" the other redheaded girl – Ellen, was what George called her - yelped. "And you didn't see fit to tell me this happened because...?"

"You were being an overprotective Mama Bear just because I was home late," Marianne said rolling her eyes, "I knew you would be worse if I told you what actually happened during my day."

"I am your _sister,_" Ellen stressed, "it is my job to be overprotective and make sure you're safe."

"No that's our mother's job," Marianne snapped, "your job is just to be there when I need someone to talk to without judging me all the time!"

"So, Chris," one of the brunettes said, she had a cool, elegant edge to her that was not unlike Marianne – Lizzie might have been her name, he wasn't sure, he hadn't been paying attention to which girl was which, everything had been focused on Marianne. "How is that you know George?"

This efficiently ended the argument between the sisters and all seven girls peered at Chris and George curiously. It was, Chris supposed, a rather curious thing seeing as George is a happy student with no problems while Chris is an old crippled soldier. The last few years seemed to age Chris beyond his actual age and therefore it would be hard to believe he went to school with someone as young as George.

"Oh, well, Eton," he said, "I was a prefect when George started at Eton."

The brunette turned to look at George incredulously. "You went to Eton, with all the posh snobs like Darcy?" she said disbelievingly.

"Hey! Not all of us were posh," George said defensively, "and Darcy didn't even go to Eton!"

This sparked of a debate over someone called Darcy and then Emma suddenly changed the topic after the brunette (who was definitely Lizzie) began to get rather insulting over the poor person. Soon they ended up swapping embarrassing stories about one another and for the first time in what felt like a long time Chris had actually laughed and enjoyed himself. When the girls decided to call it a night and Chris subtly found out where he was exactly and knew how to get home, he left the pub with eight new phone numbers added to his contacts and a lighter heart.

None of the bad stuff mattered anymore...He had found her..._finally._

**Author's Note: fantastic news! I'm in another play! And it's As You Like It, just like the girls are doing in this one! Unfortunately I didn't get the part I wanted (Celia, just like Cathy) but I did get a decently sized role as Audrey (and it is the biggest role I have ever had in my life since my acting career consists of being chorus unless it was for my practical exams) which means updates will slow down a bit because my dissertation and several essays are due in this semester as well. But! Big but! Another update should be out next week as a celebration for the fact next week is Pride and Prejudice's 200****th**** birthday! And I promise some answers about the whole Emma/Wickham thing will be in that chapter! **


	12. Chapter 11: Fairy Tales

"_...I was brought up for the church and I should at this time have been in possession of a most valuable living had it pleased the gentleman we were speaking of just now."  
"Indeed!"  
"Yes – the late Mr Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere."  
"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could __**that **__be? – How could his will be disregarded? – why did not you seek legal redress?"  
"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr Darcy chose to doubt it – or to treat it as a merely conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim to it by extravagance, imprudence, in short anything or nothing. Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that I was given to another man; and no less certain it is, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken my opinion __**of **__him, and __**to**__ him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me." – Elizabeth Bennett and Mr George Wickham in Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. _

Lizzie sank into her chair thankful to finally rest after a very hectic morning.

After waking up far too late, Lizzie had to fling the last of her stuff into her suitcase and bag, before rushing down and crashing into poor Anne on the stairs. The loud thumping sound they made when they landed onto the floor after falling down the last couple steps woke Marianne up. Lizzie was forced to endure her moaning while hurriedly making a quick breakfast and giving Anne a quick check up to make sure she hadn't sprain or broken something. Finally George drove round and they all helped Emma drag her things into the car – Emma really wasn't kidding when she said that she took pretty much everything back with her – before George kindly gave her a lift to the train station which of course led to a battle amongst the crowd to get onto the train with her heavy luggage and get hold of a good seat (without battering old ladies).

It was such a relief to sit down.

With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and enjoyed a moment's peace when someone suddenly tapped her shoulder.

"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you," a warm male voice said when she jumped. She turned round and to see a handsome face that she hasn't seen for two months. "Do you mind if I sit next to you? I could use some company."

Lizzie smiled, "Sure, it's a free country," she shrugged.

He sat down next to her and for a while it was quiet as the train moved speedily through London and their tickets were check, and then the food cart had made its way through when Wickham finally spoke up.

"So do you live far from London then?"

"Not so far," Lizzie shrugged, "Meryton is only an hour or so on the train."

"Really? How odd," Wickham exclaimed, "I live in Meryton as well."

"Do you?"

"Oh yes, with my aunt," Wickham said cheerfully, "we only just moved there. Before we spent some time up north, my aunt had a job up there but then we transferred back nearer to home, before then we lived in Highbury."

Highbury. That name was familiar and it took a few seconds to realise why, it was Emma and George's home – where they grew up. "So...you knew Emma Woodhouse quite well then, if you grew up in Highbury?" she asked quietly.

Wickham shrugged. "As well as anyone who isn't George Knightly, I suppose."

"If you don't mind me asking," Lizzie jumped in quickly before she didn't have the chance to ask him again, "what happened between you two? Emma and you, I mean, though I could also ask about you and Darcy...they both seemed so angry with you and I didn't understand why, neither would tell me."

Wickham sits there silently as he studies her face for a moment. It is as if he was trying to figure out if she was being sincere or trying to trick him into saying something. She opens her mouth to reassure him that she is only being curious when he suddenly speaks, "it's complicated," he said running a hand through his lovely sandy blonde hair. "Well sort of, Emma and I were rather good friends once, and then a couple things happened. It goes back to my childhood."

"I won't tell anyone," Lizzie promised quietly.

"I know," he grinned at her easily and she can't help but smile back. There was something undeniably charming and sweet about this young man. "I'm an orphan, well sort of, my mother is out there somewhere but she couldn't handle being a mum, you know? So I was left in foster care."

"Oh, that's terrible," Lizzie murmured.

"Yeah, it wasn't too bad but it wasn't pleasant either," Wickham shrugged, "just overcrowded, poor clothes, and not enough food. Quite fortunately though Mr Fitzwilliam and his wife had decided to foster a child, doing their charitable duty and all that rot, and they picked me."

"Darcy's parents?" she questioned.

"Yeah," Wickham said, "they were decent folk for rich snobs. Took very good care of me and loved me as if I was their own. I can't complain. Problem is they probably loved me too much for Darcy's liking," Wickham said, an ugly look flashed across his face at the mention of his foster brother but it went away quickly, "jealousy and all that. Anyway, Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam died in a car crash, Darcy and his sister was taken in by their relatives and I was shoved back into foster care. But they left me a fortune of such, nothing too big, but enough to live on till I graduate. I wasn't to get it till I was eighteen, some sort of law, but when my birthday came and gone there wasn't a single penny put in my account. Darcy kept it all to himself."

"_NO_!" Lizzie cried out. Her eyes widening in shock, she knew Darcy was a bit of prick but she never thought he would be _that_ much of a prick. "Surely that is illegal?"

Wickham shrugged. "I don't know much about law, it doesn't matter now," he said, "I have a job, I'm receiving a good education, and I have good friends. Besides I found my aunt and she welcomed me with arms open and I have the family I always wanted."

"Well at least he hasn't ruined your life," Lizzie said supportively, glad that her friend managed to get on with his life despite what that prick had done to him, "that shows him for being a petty, jealous, arsehole."

Wickham grinned at her again. "Yeah...it wasn't him that ruined my life though I wouldn't be surprised if he had a hand behind what Emma did."

"What did Emma _do_?" Lizzie demanded to know.

"There was this girl," Wickham said uncomfortably, "sweet little thing, a little silly and very pretty, I began to think of her as my sister but apparently she wanted more. She was a good friend of Emma's and when Emma took it in her head we would make a good couple..."

"Ah," Lizzie said understanding completely – yes, Emma would try to match make someone, wouldn't she? "Say no more."

"When nothing went like Emma had hoped it would," Wickham said sadly, he was obviously remembering how he had to break this poor girl's heart and feeling guilty about it, "she turned the whole village against me. It was terribly ridiculous being shunned in this day and age, it got on my aunt's nerves and she couldn't cope with it...so in the end we moved up north."

Lizzie couldn't believe it – well she could, a little – how could Emma just ruin two people's lives just like that? Without a single thought of the effects it would have on those poor people, that poor aunt who must have struggled under the strain of having her friends suddenly turn on her. Wickham quickly changed the topic and they ended up discussing a large variety of things, he was well read and held a general interest in everything thus making him a fascinating conversationalist.

Despite this his story about Darcy and Emma lingered in the back of her mind. Darcy managing to disinherit poor Wickham, poor unwanted, unloved, and neglected Wickham who obviously adored Darcy's parents, was very believable. The arse had managed to get away with all sorts of despicable behaviour, from insulting someone to outright acting like a superior smug git, and people like George and Emma enable him with pathetic excuses like 'he's always been like that' and 'he's not so bad when you get to know him'. And sadly, as much as Lizzie loved Emma, the story about Emma and her matchmaking rang true with Lizzie. Emma can be rather forceful in her desires for a match, not that she literally forces them to date, but she can be very vocal about it and have a habit of organising 'accidental' meetings. Right now, Emma has poured nothing but flattering comments about Fanny into Elton's ear, and the same about Elton to Fanny, and had also arranged their first meeting. Lizzie had no doubt that by the end of production week, if Emma has her own way, Fanny would be dating Elton.

Last year Emma had tried to matchmake Lizzie with Darcy for some godforsaken reason that had never made sense to Lizzie. Lizzie was told all about Darcy's good qualities (none of them were believable) and thrown into accidental meetings, including one blind date that Emma managed to convince George to set up, and nothing but disaster happened. It hadn't deterred Emma though, while she may not go on about it as often as she used to, every so often Lizzie would catch a comment or a suggestion that Darcy wasn't so bad and Lizzie should give him a chance.

Perhaps Emma did have people shun Wickham but grew up sometime afterwards. It sounds like it happened when Emma was quite young and probably when George was nowhere to be seen, Lizzie could see George coming back too late to help but Wickham but in time to get Emma to never make that mistake again.

But...when she saw Wickham...Emma had been furious...absolutely _furious._...could she have not regretted it and still hold it against the poor guy?

Lizzie's thoughts halted to a terrible stop when the train suddenly pulled in at Meryton and standing on the platform was her mother squealing her name and waving like a maniac.

_Oh Lizzie's poor nerves_!

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

"Taylor!"

"Emma!"

George grinned as he watched two of his closest childhood friends run into one another's arms and embraces one another warmly. While he wouldn't want to swap Cathy for anyone and knew none of the other girls would either, he had missed Taylor's warm, sensible, and kind nature in the house. He also knew that Emma, despite acting like nothing had changed at all, had missed her the most and stood aside to let her cling tightly to one of her oldest friends.

Once Emma and Taylor finally pried themselves from one another, George hugged his friend warmly and kissed her cheek, "Marriage suits you," he declared brightly. "You're glowing."

Taylor flushed pink, "yes well," she said nervously, glancing at Emma just like she did at her wedding when she was about to announce her gap year, "there's a reason for that."

"Whatever happens in your bedroom with Mr Weston must stay that way Taylor," Emma said instantly, "I don't need the details. That man has babysat me several times."

George agreed with a shudder as much as he admired and respected Mr Weston there were some things he just never wanted to know about the man.

"Oh very well," Taylor said amused, "I'll just save it for my coffee mornings with Miss Bates."

"Good lord!" Emma cried out. "And the poor old dear hasn't had a heart attack yet?"

"Trust me," Taylor said, "I almost had a heart attack when she asked me for details but when most of the young girls here are doing more than babysitting every so often, you often find your only company is Miss Bates, and she can be good company at that."

"When she's not boasting about her numerous nieces and nephews," Emma muttered.

"You're no better when someone gets you started on our lot," George pointed out.

Emma ignored him in favour of asking Taylor about what went on in the last couple weeks since they have been there. Taylor filled them in on the local gossip (which wasn't much, just a local cow went on the rampage and the Perry children made themselves sick by eating too much on bonfire night) before she moved on to discuss her new stepson.

Frank Churchill was a mysterious (and apparently dashing if Emma was ever to be believed) young man. A product of Mr Weston's wild days when he was sixteen, he had never stepped foot in Highbury due to being raised by his mother and then by his aunt and uncle when she had died of cancer. Mr Weston did his duty of paying alimony and often visited round the holidays until Frank turned eighteen and became 'too busy'. Soon enough the weekly phone calls that Mr Weston talked so joyfully about became a rare thing.

"He wrote the loveliest letter to me," Taylor said, "a long endearing ramble about how he is glad to call me stepmother and will do his best to love me but alas the memory of his own loving mother is too overwhelming for him to call me mother. He praised his father and told me a great deal about himself. I know the age difference between us is too small for me to be considered his mother but I will certainly be his friend and do my best to love him dearly, he phoned as well."

"Did he?" Emma questioned. "What did he sound like? Too gruff and deep, or something much more charming?"

"Oh charming," Taylor said immediately, "and a cheeky sod as well. He is a delightful young man and I think the two of you will get on brilliantly. In fact, you'll find out at Christmas, he is coming to spend the holidays with us."

"Oh! Mr Weston must be delighted!"

"Indeed he is," Taylor smiled.

George, for some unknown reason, was not delighted. The idea of Emma meeting someone so charming and cheeky, so endearing and wonderful, someone who could apparently wax poetry over nothing judging by Taylor's reaction to his letter...Christmas had always been a time for family. Just the Knightlys and the Woodhouses with Mrs and Miss Bates...the idea of some charming, handsome, cheeky young man intruding on this made George sick to the stomach.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Jane had changed beyond recognition.

It horrified Lizzie to come home, expecting to find everything the same as ever, only to see her favourite and older sister looking so thin, pale, sickly, and downright depressed. She knew Jane wasn't happy since Charlie had buggered off (if Lizzie ever meets him on the streets of London the girls will have to bail her out for attempted murder) but she didn't think it had that much of an affect. Gone was the happy, bubbly, blonde angel Lizzie had always known, the girl who hummed quietly to herself while she did mundane tasks, the girl who took great joy in the most annoying things, and the girl who was happy and content to be a waitress all her life because she got to see people every day. Gone was Lizzie's sister and her replacement was some lifeless drone.

"Oh Jane," Lizzie murmured.

Without another word she pulled the now crying Jane into her arms and held her tightly while murmuring soothing nonsense in an attempt to comfort her sister. Never again will she ignore a midnight phone call from her sister.

Behind her, her mother muttered something darkly and promptly went into the kitchen after shouting something to the rest of the house in general. Before Lizzie could do more than pull out a pack of tissues for Jane, she was suddenly tackled either side by Kitty and Lydia.

"Lizzie!" Kitty cried out.

"We missed you so much!" Lydia exclaimed.

"Get off of me you trolls!" Lizzie said laughingly as she wrapped an arm round each twins. "I haven't been gone that long and I have no doubt you've enjoyed nicking my things."

"Well yeah," Lydia grinned cheekily, "but we missed annoying you more."

"Gits," Lizzie muttered as she finally untangled herself from the twins, "go on then, Mary," she sighed noticing her younger sister (and second favourite after Jane but don't tell anyone that!) hovering at the door. "Give me a hug before I lose all feeling in my arms...or my back gives in, either one is bound to happen with these fat cows hanging on me."

"OI!"

Mary giggled as she ran into Lizzie's arms and hugged her tightly. The twins continued to shriek and shrill about how they weren't fat or cows, while Jane cracked a very weak smile and their father stormed into the room to tell the twins off.

"Welcome home, Lizzie," he murmured, his anger vaporising quickly when he saw her, he kissed her gently on the forehead before ruffling Mary's hair, "I'm glad my top sensible girl has come home. It's been tough just Mary and I, especially since Jane seemed to have lost her senses."

"DINNER!"

The whole room ran into the dining room and after a noisy affair where Lizzie had been questioned to death, her mother wailed how much she missed her baby, the twins shrieked over one another about their days, and Mary tried to hold an intelligent conversation while poor Jane just played with her food absentmindedly. It was far too loud and annoying in comparison to the peacefulness (all right, it wasn't that peaceful but it was more peaceful than here that was for sure) of Austen House.

Yet Lizzie really wouldn't have it any other way.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

A few days into Reading Week and Cathy found herself wishing her brother wasn't here at all. It wasn't that she didn't love her brother, she did, but he was being the biggest pain in the backside in the whole universe! Ellen may have trouble with her sister, Emma might moan about her own sister's worrying, and Lizzie's noisy and embarrassing sisters had absolutely nothing on one of Cathy's irritatingly dim-witted and blind prat of a brother!

James seems to be completely oblivious to the fact his best friend was nothing but a slimy creep! He was too busy looking down Isabella's shirt to be of any actual use as a brother! Most brothers would surely tell John Thorp to back off by now, or failing that punch the ferret faced git in defence of her honour!

But instead he just laughed off any disturbing comments John makes and tells Cathy to 'lighten up' before going back to flirting with Isabelle. Thank god for Harry and the girls! Harry was her knight in shining armour – well more like knight in well worn jeans and a jumper – and he had given her several good reasons to escape the slimy git's paws and spend some well deserved restful hours sitting with Harry.

Meanwhile the girls have been running interference whenever Cathy really didn't want to spend time with them. Anne would come and insist on Cathy doing some coursework with her, Fanny would remind Cathy about Church or Union duty, and Ellen would act like the nagging mother by 'dragging' Cathy 'forcibly' away for rehearsals. Not only was it one way of getting out of her sisterly/friend duty but it helped Cathy get back on top of her work which she was falling behind a little bit in the last couple weeks.

To make things even better Mrs Dashwood and Meg were amazing houseguests. Every evening the girls were guaranteed to come home to a lovely home cooked meal and excited babbling about the Tower of London or the London Dungeons while they ate. My god the food was the best thing that Cathy had ever eaten! And Meg was such a thrilling story teller who seemed to love the gothic as much as Cathy, she told some ghastly terrifying stuff that frightened poor Fanny into nightmares! Mrs Dashwood would bid them all goodnight with loving hugs as if they were all her children and Meg would rush forwards to throw her arms round their necks and kiss them sweetly on their cheek.

After a particularly strained day with her brother and friends Cathy was pleased to come home to the warm loving arms of Mrs Dashwood but it made her want to sob like a little baby when she thought of her own mother. She missed her mum terribly, weekly phone calls were never enough especially since her mother was always rushed and sounded hassled by her younger siblings. The loving bond Cathy and her mother once had had now faded into almost nothing.

However she did have Harry to cheer her up and today was going to be one of those days. Harry's sister Ella was coming to stay for a long weekend and from what Harry told Cathy she was a sweet natured and kind person. Cathy wanted to make a fantastic impression on Ella. This could one day be her sister in law! Oh wouldn't it be _wonderful_?

Cathy hummed pleasantly to herself as she put on her coat, fantasising her wedding day in her father's church, Harry looking superb in his tux, her dress had the biggest skirt in the world, and everyone was whispering how a wonderful couple they made.

A knock on the door ruined the fantasy and she rushed to open it hoping it was Harry only to reveal John, James, and Isabella.

"Oh!" she cried out in surprise. "What are you doing here? I told you I was busy today."

"Come one Cath," James whined, "how can you be too busy to see your favourite brother?"

"You're not my favourite brother," she muttered under her breath. Not that James paid any attention to that; he just waltzed in with John leering at her and Isabella sniffing in disdain like she always did when she walked into Austen House. "I have plans. I told you this yesterday and you said it would be all right because you were going to Windsor today."

"Well it wouldn't be the same without you, Kitty Cat" John said looking down at her. Cathy suddenly had the urge to wrap her arms round her chest and hide her breasts from him. Never mind the fact she was wearing about four layers today, he just had this terrible power of making her feel rather naked round him. "Come on, great big castle, half the royal family buried there, and I heard it's haunted. You like gothic things, don't you?"

"Yeah," Cathy admitted reluctantly. "But I already agreed to go to Hampstead with Harry and Ella."

"Oh!" John said suddenly smacking his head. "Oh how can I be so stupid? I saw Harry just a moment ago, didn't I, Iz?"

"Yep," Isabella said.

Cathy frowned a little. John and Harry had met a couple days ago and never before had Cathy wished so desperately to be swallowed up by the ground than she did that day. It didn't help Ellen, Marianne, and their mother and sister was there. Marianne instantly made a comment about a pissing contest and Meg loudly said something along the lines of hoping Harry will win the fight for Cathy's love. Oh god the embarrassment. She only just managed to agree to see Harry again after that...

But the point was she didn't think John would have seen Harry a moment ago and be so...so..._casual_ about it. There was something about this that didn't seem right.

"And, he just told me," John continued on, "that he cannot make it today. Some sort of family emergency had just come up. He's very sorry and he wants me to tell you he'll make it up to you but you must have fun. So you must come to Windsor with us, what can be more fun than that?"

Cathy felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. Harry couldn't make it? But-but-but...oh but she _so_ wanted to be with him! She wanted to enjoy the winter's day with her arm firmly looped through his as they talked about books and religion and all sorts! She wanted to meet his sister whom he spoke so fondly of! She didn't want to spend her day with this slimy leering creep and her moron of a brother!

"Really?" a dry, sarcastic, trill came from behind her. "Harry said that, did he?" Cathy turned very slowly to see Marianne wearing nothing but shorts and a tank top – her sleepwear, obviously – and looking very sceptical. Cathy turned back to see John gawping at her like he had just seen Aphrodite in the flesh. _Good_, Cathy thought bitterly, _perhaps he'll leave me alone now_. "Well, I think Harry is a gentleman," Marianne said loudly, "and a gentleman like Harry would phone Cathy to tell her himself that he cannot make it. I think Cathy should phone Harry _right now_, and find out whether or not you're telling the truth."

Cathy looked back at Marianne who suddenly winked at her. Understanding flooded Cathy's senses as she realised Marianne was calling out John's lie and she grinned up at her new best friend in the whole world.

"Yes," Cathy said fumbling for her phone, "yes you're quite right."

"Now there's no need for that!" John yelped suddenly snatching Cathy's phone from her. "All right, all right, I lied but I wanted to spend the day with you Kitty Cat, is that so bad?"

"Yes," Marianne said bluntly before Cathy could reply. "But I'm sure if you stick around Harry would have no problems if you tagged along with them. If," she added sharply, "you ask nicely."

"Nah, you know what," John said draping an arm round his sister, "I think we'll save Windsor for another day. Come on Iz, James, let's have some real fun, I know all the best pubs in town."

They all strolled past Cathy, John giving her one last leering look, Isabella turning her nose up at her, and James giving her a scolding look for turning them away. Cathy, feeling Marianne's eyes burning in her back, held her ground and glared lightly back. She was not going to regret this, she was going to spend the day with the man she loved, and she was going to enjoy it no matter what.

The moment the door shut firmly behind them, she sighed heavily with relief, and turned to face Marianne. "Thank you," she said, "I don't think I would have handled them so well without you."

Marianne shrugged elegantly, like a cat, "what are friends for?" she asked.

Cathy threw her arms round Marianne and hugged her tightly before rushing back to the front door when she heard a knock. Just as she was about to open it she could hear Marianne rushing up the stairs and appreciated it. While she was sure Harry wouldn't have been so open at gawping at Marianne like John had been she had no doubt that someone as beautiful as Marianne and as underdressed would take most of his attention away from Cathy.

"Hello," Harry said cheerful as ever, "I just saw your brother and his friend, they didn't seem too happy."

"Oh, yes, I unfortunately let them down," Cathy confessed a little sheepishly, "I made it quite clear that I would rather spend the day with you and Ella, and they weren't so pleased about that."

Harry's eyes twinkled brightly at that as if he was so very pleased to hear that. He then introduced her to his sister, and then offered his arm to her before he escorted her out of the house and down the street to Hampstead Heath.

And do you know what the best part of that day was?

It hadn't been how wonderfully kind his sister was, or how he spent the whole day acting like a complete gentleman to her, nor was it the warm welcome she received from the Dashwoods, Fanny, and Anne when she finally came home.

It was the fact the entire day Harry couldn't seem to take his eyes away from her own.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Marianne had promised Meg an adventure, and an adventure was what she was going to get!

It was the Dashwoods' last day together, their mother was spending the day with Ellen (who finally had an entire day off from one thing or the other) and Marianne severely needed to hand in her CVS at some more shops. So to give Ellen and their mother alone time, Marianne had dragged Meg out and promised an adventure at the shops. Though in hindsight this was probably going to hinder her getting a job at these shops if she's playing dress up and loudly mocking everything with Meg. But Marianne would do anything to get Meg to laugh she had never been the same since their father died.

"It's going to rain," Meg moaned as they came out of another clothes shop.

"It's not going to rain," Marianne said firmly.

"You always say that and then it does."

As if to prove Meg right and Marianne wrong, the heavens opened up and they were instantly drenched. "We'll run across the road," Marianne shouted over an ominous sound of thunder, "and get a hot drink in the cafe, yeah?"

Meg nodded and grabbed hold of Marianne's hand before suddenly pulling her across the road, dodging angry drivers, and whipping round the lamppost. Marianne struggled to keep up with her younger sister in her ridiculously high heels (she was dressed to impress and they were the only smart shoes she had!) and was beginning to stumble over her own feet when Meg suddenly hauled Marianne over the curb, she tripped, fell, and seemed to have managed to hurt her ankle as she landed face first onto the pavement.

"Marianne!"

"I'm fine, darling," Marianne said quickly as she got onto her knees, she grimaced at the stinging sensation, they were grazed. "I'm fine, honestly, help me up sweetheart," she held her hands out to her sister and Meg immediately took them and hauled her up. "See I'm f-ARGH!" Marianne instantly went back down and would have landed on her arse if it wasn't for Meg catching her.

"What happened? What is it?" Meg asked panicked.

"I think I might have twisted my ankle or something," Marianne said trying to be reassuring. "My fault for wearing these ridiculous high heels."

"Shall I call an ambulance?"

"No, no, there's no need to be drastic," Marianne said soothingly, "just help me walk into the cafe, we'll find the nearest walk in centre and get a taxi there." They managed two steps before Marianne's muffled whimpers of pain caused Meg to burst into tears. "Oh, darling, sweetie, don't cry," Marianne pleaded while fighting her own urge to cry as well. She hated it when Meg cried it broke her heart to hear her little sister sob so wretchedly. "Please darling, I'm begging you."

"Why the tears beautiful?"

Marianne looked up to see _the most gorgeous man in the world_ talking to Meg. The most gorgeous and sweetest man in the world judging by the packet of tissues he suddenly held out to Meg. He was dark haired, dimpled, and had the most beautiful, deep, dark, soulful eyes that she had ever seen in the universe. Oh dear god...

Meg babbled a response to the man as she blew her nose loudly (and rather embarrassingly) into a tissue. Marianne could barely make out what her sister had told the man but she knew it was a basic report on the last five minutes especially since this gorgeous specimen of manhood was now looking at her sympathetically.

"Well, don't you worry your pretty head sweetheart," the man said reassuringly to her sister. "I know where the nearest walk in centre is and I can take you both there. You can use my mobile to call your mother and everything will be right as rain, once more."

"Thank you, sir," Meg mumbled tearfully.

"It's nothing," the man said cheerfully, "anything to help two pretty girls like you." his eyes met Marianne's and she felt consumed by his dark, soulful, and so very beautiful eyes. She knew what he meant, he was being kind to Meg because she was a crying little girl but it was _her_ he wanted to help.

Before she knew it he suddenly stepped behind her and picked her up as if she was a princess or some sort of damsel out of a romance novel. She certainly swooned like one at the feel of his strong arms round her and the steady thump of his heart against her shoulder. He smelt delightful as well, nice cologne that she couldn't name and of old books, and wood polish. Without a single thought to it, she wrapped her arms round his neck and smiled warmly at him as he began to stride down the street with Meg at his side.

She knew right there and then that she had finally found what she had been looking for in the last year and the half.

She found _love_.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Reading Week for Lizzie had been great.

She gotten some work out of the way, not the amount she wanted but enough to make things easier for the next couple weeks, and spent a fantastic week lazing about with her sisters and Wickham who was quickly becoming a favourite of her mother's. Not that Lizzie can blame her, after all George Wickham was very charming and very good looking, and knew how to make everyone laugh. He took Lizzie's sisters' odd behaviour with stride and listened to Lydia's silly ramblings; Mary's piano playing, and played the sympathetic listener for Jane when she needed it.

He was quickly becoming part of the family, even Lizzie's father had sat there and talked to him about several things.

On the last night of Reading Week before Lizzie took the train home (so Saturday night) he had unfortunately had to stay with his aunt but promised to sit with her on the train. It was the last meal so to speak and once again her mother cooked her favourites and the table was buzzing with its usual noise when suddenly her father tapped his fork against his glass.

"I have an announcement," her father said firmly silencing her sisters with a single look, "as you should all know your mother and I will have been married for twenty five years this Christmas Eve."

Of course they knew! Every Christmas Eve (and sometimes random days in the year depending on their mother's mood) their mother would tell them how she got married, how romantic it was, how the church was aglow with candles and the choir echoed all around them, and then their father would grumble how expensive the whole thing had been which always ruined the mood (much to all the girls' amusement). How could they not know it was their parent's anniversary on Christmas Eve? Nonetheless they all nodded and murmured their acknowledgement of the date.

"Since it is a special anniversary," their father continued, "I am taking your mother away for a cruise from the twenty third till after New Years."

Their mother beamed joyfully at this while Lydia and Kitty gasped excitedly. "Oh Daddy!" Lydia cried out. "That sounds wonderful, are we all going? Can I get a bikini? Will it be all inclusive?"

"No, definitely not, and yes," their father said sternly. Lydia and Kitty deflated at that and dejectedly went back to their dinners. "we will have Christmas early on the twenty second and then I am afraid you'll be separated, Jane you will be going to London to spend it with your mother's brother." Jane actually cheered up a little at that and Lizzie knew why, there was no doubt that her sister will try to talk to Charlie and sort things out for once and all. "While Mary, Lydia, and Kitty shall be going to Brighton with my sister," Mary groaned while the twins squealed excitedly. The Fosters pampered Lydia and Kitty especially while struggle to hold a conversation with Mary. It wasn't going to be a happy Christmas for Mary this year that's for sure. "And we thought to leave it with you Lizzie to decide what you're doing for Christmas," their father finished.

Dinner continued as usual while Lydia and Kitty babbled excitedly about what they want to do in Brighton, Mary moodily picked at her food, Jane held a warm conversation with their mother about that Christmas Eve wedding once again, and their father enjoyed his dinner in silence. Lizzie, however, was weighing up her options for Christmas. It would be so easy to stay in London for the holidays – well go back to London after spending the first weekend with her parents – and do all her work while spending some time with Jane but she'd rather not stay in a cold house on her own. As much as she loved Austen House it wasn't half damn creepy when it was empty. She couldn't stay with her uncle and Jane either, it was a small house and her uncle had three children as it is. She could ask one of her friends' if she could spend Christmas with them but she suspected Fanny wasn't allowed friends over, it would be equally cramped at the Dashwoods (and why would she want to spend more time with Marianne?) as it would at her uncles, Anne's father seemed to dislike guests, she didn't know Cathy that well to ask, and while Emma would gladly have her Lizzie had spent one time too many having one of the Knightly children try and stick their fingers up her nose or pull her hair.

Then it hit her – Lottie!

Lottie Lucas was her oldest and best friend in the whole world. They were born mere days apart and their mothers had been friends themselves so there hadn't been a single day since Lizzie was born that they hadn't spent together. Until they finished Sixth Form, Lizzie had been quick to apply to all sorts of Universities and eager to begin a new life somewhere new while Lottie did something completely unexpected...move in with Lizzie's cousin.

Colin was all right – if you liked arrogant, pompous, morons who had no idea what they're talking about. He was decent enough and Lizzie knew he would never hurt Lottie (she certainly threatened him enough over it) but Lizzie could only stand his idiocy for so long and couldn't understand why Lottie was so quick to give up university to spend the rest of her life serving Colin. They had argued about it and Lizzie spent several lonely months in London before the other girls (mostly Emma) encouraged her to apologise and sort things out with Lottie.

Lottie had been asking and asking for Lizzie to come and stay with them in Kent and now Lizzie had the opportunity to do so. So once dinner was over, she rushed to the phone and called Lottie, unfortunately had to put up with a whole half hour of Colin's rambling (he had picked up the phone), and after another good hour or so just catching up it was agreed. Lizzie would spend Christmas with her irritating cousin and her lovely best friend.

Lizzie fell asleep that night with a smile on her face certain that nothing could go wrong.

**Author's Note: this chapter is dedicated to Jane Austen in celebration of Pride and Prejudice's 200****th**** Birthday. **


	13. Chapter 12:Pride Vs Prejudice

_Rule Number 4a: if a member of Austen House has a boy staying the night they should warn the rest of the House in advance.  
_**And I say it again; George was equally terrified of Anne as she was of him! - **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse. **_

"Wow," Lizzie said on Sunday morning, "Marianne isn't as bad as I first thought then."

It has been a week since she had returned to Austen House and only now had she been able to catch up on what has been happening. It was an unfortunate fact of life that everyone had been too busy to actually talk to one another. Fanny was away all day at her work placement, Anne, Emma, and Ellen were juggling sorting costumes, scenery, and props with finishing their essays, doing their reading, and filling their other commitments, and then Cathy had been dragged out by Isabella virtually every day when she wasn't with Harry Tilney or working on her lines. Marianne was out as well either with Willoughby or at her new job she got a couple days ago at Camden market. It had left Lizzie on her own mostly during the day, she still had to finish her essays off (her sisters and Wickham had been too distracting) and work on her own lines but other than that she was free and had no one to talk to.

No one but Wickham, who had been nothing but charming and witty as ever. It had cheered her immensely when she had hours alone and he would call her out for lunch or buy her a drink or even take her to the cinema and they would spend hours laughing and discussing her favourite novels, the latest episode of a certain television programme, and their favourite films. He listened intently when she spoke about her sisters and in return told her how much he enjoyed her family, how he liked her mother's cooking, and Mary's piano playing skills, and of course the twins lively behaviour.

He helped her carry books back to Austen House and treated her wonderfully. She might, just maybe, starting to fancy him a little.

Now it was Sunday morning and Cathy and Fanny were at Church, Emma, Ellen, and George were doing the food shopping while Marianne was out somewhere, leaving Anne and Lizzie alone in the house and giving them the time to have a proper catch up.

"She is nice," Anne said taking a quick sip of her tea, "just a little...well careless. Her mother and little sister are really nice as well. It felt like being part of a family while they were here."

"I'd say it's a shame I missed out on that but...well I was home with my own family," Lizzie shrugged. "And she has a job now?"

"Oh yes at a jewellery stand in Camden Market, they sell sort of hippy stuff," Anne said, "She's very good at it. I was only looking at a bracelet and the next thing I know she persuaded me to buy it with a matching pair of earrings."

"She seems the type of twist someone round her little finger."

"_Lizzie!_"

"I know, I know," Lizzie said hastily, "she's not really that bad but I can't help it. There's something about her that irritates me a little."

Before Anne could say anything there was a rattle of keys at the front door and it opened slowly to reveal a rather red faced, out of breath, and cheerful Emma carrying a couple bags with Ellen, George, and Chris Brandon behind her.

Anne flushed immediately, it was Sunday morning and after such a tiring week neither of them had done more than eaten breakfast, and therefore they were both wearing their pyjamas in front of a very newly made friend.

"Oh you lazy sods are up then," Emma grinned.

"Good morning to you too, Emma," Lizzie said sweetly.

"It's almost two o'clock in the afternoon!"

Lizzie shrugged and grinned at the others. "All right, you lot? And hello Chris, haven't seen you for a couple days, how are you?"

No one can help but like Chris, he was friendly, quiet, and easily pleased. Lizzie might have been sceptical about an older man wanting to spend so much time with a bunch of young girls but he came with George's recommendation and the only person George had been wrong about was Darcy. Besides Chris had been nothing but polite to them all and patient when Emma or Cathy babbled excitedly over something to him. His only downfall – in Lizzie's opinion – had been his blatantly obvious interest in Marianne. The poor sod was in for a heartache judging by what Anne told Lizzie about Willoughby.

"I'm fine, thank you," Chris said politely, "I had arranged to meet with Ellen for a potential job at Tesco and thought I should offer my services in carrying the shopping back," he held up the two bags he was carrying in one hand.

"You really didn't have to," Ellen reprimanded him gently; "you shouldn't have to strain yourself on our behalf."

Chris stiffened slightly, Lizzie guessed it had something to do with his manly pride being damaged, "it would have been a disservice to you if I did not help," he said.

"Come off it, Ellen," Emma said cheerfully from the kitchen. "If he's going to stay for dinner he might as well work for it."

Chris nodded in agreement. "I shall help you unpack," he said before striding down the hallway proudly.

"Oh dear," Ellen murmured, "I seemed to have injured his pride."

"Eh," Lizzie shrugged, "just ask him to peel some potatoes; I'm sure that'll cheer him up."

George decided to change the subject to what he seemed to have deemed a much more important topic to discuss. "Hello Kitty pyjamas, really Lizzie? _Really_?"

"Better than wearing nothing but Emma's pink fuzzy dressing gown and scaring the wits out of young innocent girls," Lizzie snapped.

George flushed as pink as the fuzzy dressing gown in question as did Anne and Ellen. During the first month of living together in Austen House last year, Anne had encountered George leaving the bathroom having just showered and wearing nothing but Emma's dressing gown (Emma had, apparently, stolen all his clothes as a practical joke). There had been a lot of screaming, Lizzie charging out while wielding her Norton Anthropology as a weapon, and all the girls getting a shock of their lives.

Apart from Taylor, she just laughed hysterically...oh, and Emma who smirked the entire time.

"I thought we swore to never speak of that again!"

"Well, you shouldn't have picked on my pyjamas, should you?"

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Cathy was exhausted.

No she was more than that! She was completely drained of life, she was death warmed up, she was a zombie only functioning on caffeine, and completely dead to the world. Never before in her life had Cathy felt this tired before, and she certainly had her fair share of late nights before.

"A nap after class I think," Lizzie said critically after Cathy almost fell asleep, face first, into her cereal bowel. "We don't want to have you collapsing mid way through rehearsal tonight."

"Meh," Cathy mumbled sleepily.

The night before had been the Tech Rehearsal and it was the worst rehearsal Cathy ever experienced in her life – and no that was not an exaggeration this time – and she couldn't bring herself to think about the Dress Rehearsal tonight or she might just weep or die or something along those lines. First Cathy had been worked to death by Lizzie while the Tech crew (which included about five gigantic blokes that Cathy had never seen before in her life and Fanny who was dwarfed by these men) fiddled about with the lights under Emma's direction. Many people in the Drama Club had complained how Emma had been a slave driver...well they obviously never worked with Lizzie, did they? Lizzie forced Cathy to repeat the same lines over and over and over again until she not only got it word perfect but she had to croak them, her throat had been so sore and dry, and then she barely had time for a glass of water when she was dragged into the hall to stand about the stage and shout the occasional line with the other cast members. It didn't help that some of the guys including Ben were bored and decided they would much rather muck about than actually do the task at hand.

After Cathy had been pushed into something for about the third time by one of these silly little boys play fighting, a calm but very stern and firm voice echoed across the hall.

"Boys, if you don't stop fighting now I will guarantee that you won't make it to the pub tonight."

The boys had then promptly stopped fighting while Cathy gawked up at the sound box in unflattering disbelief. "Was that _Fanny_?"

"Yeah," Lizzie had shrugged, "if she wasn't strict I'd be worried about the little kids walking all over her, wouldn't you?"

Cathy didn't get the chance to reply since it turned out Fanny was much as a slave driver as Emma and Lizzie (was Cathy the only nice one in Austen House now?), and ended up having the repeat the same cue about ten times until it was perfectly done. By the time they had gotten home it was closer to one o'clock in the morning than midnight, Cathy was already bone tired having been on her feet all evening and just as she was about to fall asleep she jolted awake in horror when she realised she hadn't done her reading for class the next morning.

So instead of going to sleep she spent the rest of the night reading one of the slowest and most boring of novels in the world...and she still hadn't finished it, Tom Jones was nothing but a gigantic never-ending tomb!

And that was why Lizzie had to save her from drowning in her cereal.

Eventually Cathy managed to get out of the house and the fresh air certainly helped to wake her up enough to sit through class. The problem was it was so warm and cosy in the classroom that she was on the verge of falling asleep before the hour was up.

"What is with you," Isabella huffed as she nudged Cathy awake, "you're so...slow and sluggish."

"I had a tiring night," Cathy mumbled, "I sat up all night to read Tom Jones."

"Idiot," Isabella sniffed, "you should have just read the spark notes. I did."

_Yeah_, Cathy thought darkly to herself, _but if I'm going to put myself in debt to get an education then I'm going to actually try my hardest at doing the work_. Instead she merely managed to mumble, "Yeah," and left it at that.

Isabella was so unimpressed with Cathy's inability to hold a conversation (what else was new?) that she abandoned Cathy in the hallway to talk to someone else. This left Cathy to pretty much sleepwalk through the corridor as she fell into a little dream. Before she knew it her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and she was on the verge of falling asleep right there and then on her feet when she collided into something.

"Oof!"

"Hey there," a familiar warm voice called out as she fell into something equally warm and comforting. "I got you, Cathy, I got you."

Her eyes opened and for a moment she was blinded by the light but it cleared up and Harry Tilney's face was hovering over hers. _Am I dreaming?_ She wondered to herself, _or am I literally just became part of a fairy tale? _The way her life had been going for the last couple months it wouldn't have surprised her if she wandered into a fairy tale accidentally.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Yeah," she said blinking rapidly, "I think I just fell asleep in the corridor."

He helped her stand up properly and much to her disappointment he moved away from her. "Didn't you get enough sleep last night?" he asked, none of his worry had left him.

"I didn't have time to sleep between Tech Rehearsal and reading Tom Jones," Cathy said sheepishly.

"You should sit down."

"Oh no, I'm fine," Cathy yawned, "I just need to go home."

Harry ignored her and took her hands – it felt so nice and lovely – and led her to a nearby bench where he sat her down and then sat down next to her. "It must be one amazing show if you were up so late rehearsing," he commented.

"It is when I'm not in it," Cathy mumbled, "I keep fluffing up my lines. It's driving Lizzie mad."

"I bet you'll be the best one on that stage."

"Will you come and see it?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

And with that Cathy may have fallen asleep on Harry's shoulder with a smile on her lips as he wrapped an arm round her.

She wouldn't swap this moment for all the world.

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Lizzie came home with a purpose that night.

The Dress Rehearsal went smoothly enough aside from the fact Cathy's dress for the final scene was too big for her. So once they had packed away after the run through Lizzie went out with the rest of the Drama lot for celebratory drinks while the other girls dragged Cathy home to have a proper dress fitting. After a drink with Ben roaring filthy jokes in one ear and Elton dripping boastful nonsense in the other, Lizzie was more than ready to go home, only to bump into Wickham when she made a dash for freedom.

After buying her drink, Wickham told her all about his week, made her laugh on several accounts, and then promised to see the show before she left. Seeing him again had reminded her of a passing thought. When she had last seen him (almost a week ago) he had walked her to the door of Austen House while carrying her books and she didn't invite him. She couldn't. Not only hadn't she ensured it was okay with the others but she didn't want Emma to attack her own guest.

So she came home with a purpose of getting Emma to either be out or be polite whenever Wickham came over.

Or if she's really good, to get Emma to sort out her problems with Wickham.

When she entered the house she found all the girls in the living room, Anne was pinning the top half of Cathy's dress (that Cathy was modelling) while Fanny was adjusting the hem line, and Emma and Ellen was making fake bouquets of flowers while sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Hey," Cathy said brightly, "how was the pub?"

"Good, good," Lizzie mumbled. She paused for a moment just a little unsure of how to approach the subject and then decided immediately that she was better off just diving in, like ripping off a plaster. "I'm thinking of inviting Wickham over for dinner next week."

There was a beat of silence and then-

"_What?_!"

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't have my friend over?" Lizzie asked sweetly. "After all no one has a problem if George is over or if Tom or Chris or Harry came over, so how is Wickham any different?"

"Wickham is a creep," Emma snarled. "He should never be allowed near young girls let alone those closer to his own age. In fact he shouldn't be allowed near any decent member of society!"

"He's a decent guy!" Lizzie shouted. "A nice bloke that you don't like simply because he didn't fancy your mate!"

Emma inhaled sharply, so sharply that her cheeks were sucked in like she just took a bite of a lemon, "what did that bastard tell you?" she demanded to know.

"That you tried to matchmake him with someone," Lizzie snapped, "and he didn't want to go out with her and you ruined his life."

"Well he's lying," Emma said quickly.

But there was something that lacked conviction in her voice. A quickness in her reply that sounded like a lie. There was a flash of something in Emma's eyes that was akin to guilt. Emma was lying to her...Wickham was right.

Lizzie was suddenly boiling over with anger.

"Oh, it's wrong for Wickham to not be interested in your friend but its okay for me to despise Darcy?" Lizzie snarled. "Or am I to expect to be chucked out after I turn down your attempts to matchmake me to that your arsehole of a friend one time too many?"

"No!" Emma cried out looking horrified. "I would never do that!"

"Really? Somehow I don't believe you."

"Darcy is my friend but-"

"_Wickham _is my friend!"

"Wickham is a giant turd!" Emma shrieked. "You have no freaking idea what he did. You weren't there! It was nothing like how he made it out to you!"

"But it still happened!"

"Not the way he told you," Emma insisted, "he twisted things around. He makes things up, Lizzie; the stuff he told me about Darcy was so despicable-"

"There we go again, Darcy, Darcy, Darcy," Lizzie interrupted, "is that all you care about? Making Darcy look good for me so you can have your bloody love match? Well it's not going to happen Emma, and you can either leave or lump it when Wickham comes round because he is _my friend_, he _is_ a decent guy, and _you _were in the wrong not the other way round."

Emma stared up blankly at Lizzie for a moment and for that brief moment Lizzie swore her eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Okay," she murmured.

"Okay what?" Lizzie asked suddenly unnerved.

"I'm leaving."

And before Lizzie could say another word she was pushed aside as Emma marched out of the living room and down the hallway. "Emma," Lizzie called out coming back into her senses, "wait-"

The front door slammed shut.

Lizzie turned round for support. She was prepared to say something flippant about Emma being childish and she would be back in no time and it'll be sorted out soon enough but it all died on her lips when she saw her friends' faces.

Cathy looked horrified as if she never expected to see such carnage in Austen House. Ellen and Anne were both looking at Lizzie with disapproval and disappointment as if they expected better of her...it was enough to make anyone feel guilty but it was Fanny's look that made her feel ten million times worse.

Fanny, sweet, innocent, and forgiving Fanny, looked outright disgusted with Lizzie.

"Friends," she hissed, "don't believe near strangers over their own friends."

"I-"

"Come on Cathy," Fanny interrupted abruptly, "we can finish altering your dress in my bed room."

They brushed past Lizzie without a second look. Lizzie swallowed suddenly feeling that her whole world had just been destroyed by a few thoughtless words. She looked beseechingly at Ellen and Anne, the sensible ones, surely they could understand but they didn't seem to at all.

"I have some work I need to do," Ellen said, and she then walked out of the room and up the stairs.

Anne said nothing at all when she walked into the hallway and much to Lizzie's surprise she put on her coat instead of heading up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I am going to wait outside for Emma," Anne said without looking at her. "She went out without her coat or bag; she'll need someone to let her in."

She then walked straight out of the front door without a single word to Lizzie and slammed it shut behind her. Lizzie sat down on the stairs and clutched her bag desperately to herself as she bit her lips and tried her best to not give in and cry.

_Friends don't believe near strangers over their own friends_.

Fuck! What has she done?

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Emma was furious.

She was also heartbreakingly upset but she pushed that aside in favour of her fury. How _dare_ Lizzie choose Wickham over her? How dare she not give her the chance to explain what really happened? _How could she_? She knew of nothing and yet acted as if she knew all! Oh what Emma would give to march back and slap her silly!

Instead she continued walking.

She didn't want to come home to judgmental eyes. She didn't want to go home and find Wickham sitting at her table as if he owned it. She didn't want to go home to Lizzie Bloody Bennett and her righteous anger.

Without a single thought or conscious decision she found herself outside George's front door. She blinked and shook her head; she really shouldn't be surprised that she ended up here. She always did go to George when she was upset and he always made her feel better.

She knocked on the door and within moments the door opened to reveal Darcy.

Oh poor Darcy! He had no idea what Lizzie knew, what Wickham had told her, and what she thought of him. He had no idea of mind numbingly stupidly prejudiced Lizzie was against him.

"Emma?"

"I...came to see George," she mumbled.

"Oh, he isn't in," Darcy said, "he went out to get some milk. Do you want to come in and wait for him?"

The look of concern he was sending her and the gentle tone of his voice broke her. the offer of comfort (no matter how vague it was) broke the dam and she suddenly released a choked up sob and flung her arms round Darcy's neck as she buried her face into his shoulder, and then she wept.


	14. Chapter 13: The Truth About Emma

"_...With all dear Emma's little faults, she is an excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which may be trusted; she will never lead anyone really wrong; she will make no lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred times." – Mrs Weston (nee Taylor) to Mr Knightly in Emma, by Jane Austen. _

_The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. "He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle.  
"There __**is**__ something a little stately in him to be sure," replied her aunt, "but it is contained to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, __**I **__have seen nothing of it."  
"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling."  
"To be sure, Lizzie," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham; or rather he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features are perfectly good. But how came you to tell us he was so disagreeable?" – Mr and Mrs Gardiner in Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. _

Contrary to popular belief Darcy did not meet Emma through George.

He had in fact met George through Emma. It was six years ago now since he had first met Emma – raging, furious, and quite frankly _terrifying_ sixteen year old girl – and while they would never have the closeness that she had with the girls or he with George, they had a rather strong friendship.

Despite this friendship Darcy was never good with dealing with crying females.

_God_ he hated crying females. If he had a choice between bungee jumping of a space satellite or comforting a crying female, he would pick the bungee jumping without hesitation, at least then he would know he'll still be alive afterwards. Whenever he tried to comfort Georgie or Annette when they were in tears he seemed to somehow worsen the situation.

With the greatest reluctance he placed his arms round Emma, petted her hair, and murmured something along the lines of 'there, there' while praying for George to come home soon and pry Emma off of him.

Fortunately for him Emma wasn't much of a crier and she eventually pried herself off of him and sniffled sheepishly at him, "sorry," she mumbled, "I don't suppose I can come inside now?"

He stepped aside, "I'll get you some tissues," he said uncomfortably as she edged past him, "would you like something to drink?"

"No thanks," Emma replied as she entered the living room.

Darcy slipped into the bathroom and used his towel to wipe the damp spot Emma left on his neck with her crying before helping himself to reams of toilet paper which he shoved into Emma's hand rather ungraciously a moment later.

"So..."

"So..." Emma blew her nose which was rather revolting.

"What...erm...well, made you cry?"

"Jeeze, you really don't like crying girls, do you?"

Ah, Emma, he can always trust her to understand him even if she doesn't agree with it. "No," he agreed happily, "no I do not."

Emma rolled her eyes, "no wonder Lizzie thinks you're a jackass," she mumbled. Darcy ignored that because he knew Emma didn't mean it maliciously. Elizabeth probably still thought of him rather arrogant and unfeeling but he desperately hoped once she got over her embarrassment she will view him in a different, more romantic, light and they can make those beginning steps of a relationship. Instead of reacting he just gave Emma a pointed look urging her to tell him the truth. "Oh all right," she huffed, "Wickham told Lizzie some butchered version of what happened five years ago and she believed it. God, she believed him."

Darcy fought down the urge to run when Emma's eyes started to water and she sniffed into the ball of toilet paper. He also had to fight the urge to hunt Wickham down and punch his lights out, not only was he spreading lies and misleading Elizabeth but he was making Emma cry.

"He has a habit of being rather charming," he muttered.

"Yeah but I'm her _friend_," Emma half wailed, "She should have asked for my side before choosing him!"

"I have no doubt," he said in an attempt to comfort her, "that she only believes him because he spoke of me first. Elizabeth is intelligent in more ways than one," he might have said that a little too admiringly but he can trust Emma to not tell anyone (apart from George) that. "She will soon realise that Wickham gave her a half-truth and apologise."

"I hope so," Emma sobbed.

And Darcy was back again holding a weeping woman while he wondered how much it would cost to go to the nearest space satellite and just jump off of it without the bungee cord.

He never liked Wickham and over the years his dislike rapidly turned into hatred. He already would have very happily put Wickham in hospital especially after what he did to Georgie but now if he were to bump into Wickham right this moment he would outright kill the bastard.

Darcy and Wickham had a long history of rivalry that was better off left unsaid but when Darcy had reached of age he decided to seek Wickham out to settle the matter once and for all. A private detective had found Wickham in Highbury where he was living with his aunt – a weak, frail woman who had not quite recovered from her abusive childhood and had taken Wickham in when she discovered his existence. He had arranged to meet Wickham in the cafe and within five minutes of them barely speaking to one another Emma burst in and slapped Wickham.

Darcy sat there in shock as this furious blonde screamed all sorts to Wickham. Apparently he was a 'heartless bastard' who broke a Harriet's heart. If it had been a simple case of Wickham being a heartbreaker Darcy would have left within another hour but it was so much worse than that. Harriet Smith was fifteen years old and two months pregnant with Wickham's child...and the moment she had naively told him (with the greatest hope he would marry her once she turned sixteen and help raise the child); he broke up with her and told her that he had lied.

That he had never loved her.

That he had only ever wanted a shag and she was the easiest one.

And when she cried, begged him to stay, and tried to grab hold of him, he smacked her away. He smacked her hard enough for her to bruise.

Emma, in her blind fury having just comforted Harriet Smith, screeched all of this out to the whole of Highbury as she continued to smack Wickham with a newspaper that she had stolen from a nearby pensioner.

A Mr Perry managed to calm Emma down and there was a moment of silence until, "Shame on you," an elderly woman spat out to Wickham, "shame on you George Wickham!"

Darcy abruptly ended his meeting with Wickham with a cold goodbye and left his foster brother screaming abuses at his back as he followed Emma Woodhouse out of the village. At first she was just as angry at him as she was with Wickham but when he explained he wanted to make some sort of compensation to Harriet, though nothing could compensate for that loss of innocence and heartbreak, she calmed down and took him back to her home (which was far smaller in comparison to Pemberly but fine in its own right), and introduced him to the young girl.

Darcy gave Harriet Smith most of the money he had intended for Wickham which would later pay for her beautician classes and set her up in a small cottage after she turned eighteen. A small little portion went to the abortion. He, Harriet, and Emma sat there together in a private hospital in London two weeks later after meeting. It was when Emma learnt he struggled with crying females since his attempts of comfort only made Harriet sob harder.

And that would have been the end of it if it hadn't been for Emma insisting on his email address. First she just sent him reports on Harriet and Wickham, Harriet was cheering up, and unfortunately Wickham's aunt's nerves couldn't cope with the gossiping and they had moved. Then she started to tell him about herself and encouraged him to speak about himself in return, and then eventually she just sent him funny videos where he had to reply with _Emma for god sake stop filling my inbox with junk mail_, but she knew it amused him. He didn't know how she knew but she knew.

Then after a distasteful viewing of the residence halls for his main choice of university he decided he would look for private accommodation and when he informed Emma of his choice she had pointed him towards George.

And the rest was history. Here he was now with Emma now falling asleep on him (she better not drool on his shoulder, she soaked it enough with her tears) just as George arrived back from the shops.

"Sorry it took so long, the queues were a nightmare," he called out from the kitchen. "I got some more bread and beans as well while I was there but I think we need to do a proper shop tomorrow seeing as we barely have anything for dinner to-"

George walked in and immediately closed his mouth shut at the sight of Emma. His narrowed eyes took in the damp spot on Darcy's shirt and the pile of toilet paper on the floor, and the fading redness of Emma's face.

"Who made her cry?" he demanded to know.

"Elizabeth," Darcy murmured, "apparently Wickham has been telling tales."

"Right."

Darcy has seen George angry a couple times but he has never seen him this angry. It appeared if one wrong word was spoken he was likely to explode. Darcy didn't have the patience for such dramatics. At this point he only wanted to get a dry shirt on and get some sleep.

"Come and get your girlfriend off me," he said, "I have an early start tomorrow morning."

"She's not my girlfriend," George said immediately.

"Could have fooled me," Darcy muttered.

"Is it all right if she stays here for the night?" George asked as gently pulled Emma off of Darcy and cradled her to him with all the carefulness one might have with a newborn babe.

_Not his girlfriend, yeah right_, Darcy inwardly snorted. "It'll make a nice change," Darcy said out loud with a shrug, "usually you're the one staying over at hers."

"The girls are so much nicer roommates than you," George teased.

"Hey you chose me," Darcy shrugged.

"Yeah, but the choice was between you and this creepy guy with a tarantula," George said cheerfully, "and I don't know about you but I'd rather share a flat with someone I barely see than a great big hairy spider that might poison me in my sleep."

"I didn't know you were so scared of spiders."

"I wasn't talking about the tarantula."

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When George arrived at Austen House the next morning he was surprised to find Fanny sitting outside with a cup of tea. The sweet blonde looked exhausted and he had a suspicion she might have waited out there in the cold November night all night waiting for Emma.

"Don't tell me you've been here all night," he called out.

She looked relieved to see him though it vanished when she realised Emma was nowhere to be seen. "No, just since three o'clock in the morning," she said as if it was nothing. George thought she had the patience of a saint to sit out in the freezing cold for four straight hours. He barely had the patience with Emma this morning when she spent closer to an hour in his shower and then nicked his favourite shirt and jogging bottoms to wear. "Anne had almost fallen asleep when we realised she was still waiting outside for Emma," Fanny continued unaware of George's admiration, "is she at yours?"

"Yeah," George replied, "came straight over after the fight and cried all over Darcy. Poor sod. She's going to stay with me for a couple days though."

Fanny nodded as if she expected that but then perhaps she did. "I'll let you in," she said standing up, "but then I have to go soon for my work placement. Ask Anne or Ellen to pack a bag for you."

George laughed at Fanny's suggestion because he knew exactly why she made it. "Trust me Fanny this wouldn't be the first time I handled Emma's underwear – I've done her laundry! And packed her bags a couple times!" he added hastily at Fanny's horrified look, lord knows what she was thinking until he said that...well he knew but it wasn't something he wanted to think about.

To make things easier on both of them, he rushed up the stairs and went straight through to Emma's room. After he grabbed everything Emma could possibly need or want (including her laptop because he wasn't having her use his after the virus incident) he went to make a quick escape only to find Lizzie waiting for him in the hallway.

"You're angry with me too," she noted his facial expression, "I didn't mean to make her leave, I just-"

"Being incredibly prejudiced," he finished for her. He was angry with Lizzie but not as much as he had been yesterday. When Emma woke him up very early this morning (he didn't care that she couldn't sleep anymore it was _five_ am) they had sat down together with a cup of coffee and discussed what happened the night before. Emma insisted she was just as much to blame because she let her pride get in the way of telling Lizzie her side. George tried to point out it was only her pride that wasn't letting her go back to Austen House but she decided to stop listening at that point. "You didn't even let her tell you her side of things. Wickham only told you the bare bones of the story."

"Well what did happen then?" Lizzie asked frustratedly.

"He was in a relationship with the girl Emma matched him with," George said simply, "and then broke up with her when she told him she was pregnant," he was deeply satisfied at the shock and horror on Lizzie's face. Now she knew her Wickham wasn't the perfect angel she thought he was whether that meant she would do the right thing however was another case. "Emma had a go at him in public and unfortunately gossip spreads in Highbury very quickly. His aunt couldn't cope and they left. Emma wasn't the villain, Lizzie; she has always been the misguided one at the most in these sort of stories."

Lizzie looked down guiltily. "Tell her I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Tell her yourself," he said shortly.

"I will," she said firmly, "I will and more."

"More?"

"Well, I'm going to have to beg her to come home, won't I? Or the others will never forgive me."

With a short goodbye, George went back home, and ended up spending a good fifteen minutes standing in the living room door way watching Emma and Darcy battle it out on the x-box while he admired her in his clothes.

She looked far too adorable and perfect in his shirt for her own good.

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Lizzie had tried to apologise to Emma twice now and both times she failed.

Then again Lizzie's timing hadn't been perfect despite her trying for a time when Emma was alone and not so busy. As the old age saying goes, the show must go on, and Emma continued to boss everyone about, help set the stage, sell the tickets, and sit in the audience watching them perform. And although she felt like a big pile of shit Lizzie put her all in her performance or Emma really would never forgive her.

The first time Emma had completely blanked her and then asked Ellen to get the cast on stage for one last run through of the final scenes and then the second time she had turned round and said, "Not now Lizzie, I have to talk to Ben about his habit of singing in the wrong key, and then get Holly's make up done. Can you get your costume on please?" before she rushed off to do exactly what she said.

The show went fantastically for the first two nights aside from a couple mistakes and normally they would all go home exhausted but on a post-show high. Instead they have gone home exhausted and miserable as Emma goes home with George instead of them. Fanny hasn't spoken a word to Lizzie since the argument, Anne and Ellen have only been civil, and Cathy has been nothing but a bag of nerves; unsure whether to be kind or if she should be cold like the others. Lizzie, however, just felt guilty and missed Emma more than anything else.

She couldn't quite believe that Wickham had left a pregnant girl alone but then don't half the young men in this country do that these days? And yeah she liked Wickham and thought him rather charming and sweet but at the end of the day what was his friendship compared to Emma's? He didn't find her a place to live for the last two years, he didn't know all her secrets, he wasn't there to hold her hand when she thought she broke her wrist, and he certainly wasn't there when she cried over her grandmother's death either. She had been an utter moron to believe Wickham without a single thought when it came to Emma. She could believe him on Darcy because Darcy was that sort of prick, but _Emma_...Emma couldn't purposely hurt a fly.

The final performance went smoothly as possible. Cathy missed a line and Ben mucked about as usual but overall it was the best performance they did and once the curtains closed as they finished their song, Lizzie took a deep breath, and stepped out before the curtains with her final monologue.

The audience tittered and applauded her at the right times (god bless English Literature and Drama students) and when the rest of the cast came on for their bows they burst into the loudest applause there was until Lizzie motioned them to be silent.

"There is a saying that behind every great man is a greater woman," she said loudly, "well it rings true here in the theatre only instead behind every great show is a greater director. We wouldn't be here tonight if it wasn't for the hard work of Emma Woodhouse and the whole cast would like to thank her."

The audience roared their approval as Emma blushingly climbed onto the stage (with Elton's and Ben's help) and Anne passed Holly the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers that they always got the director (unless one of the blokes were doing it then it was just more wine) who passed it to Lizzie. Lizzie clever manoeuvred the flowers to cover her face as she leaned towards Emma to pass her the wine and grabbed her wrist instead.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out in a whisper, "I am so sorry. Very, _very_ sorry."

Emma's eyes softened as she shifted her wrist out of Lizzie's grip and took her hand instead. "Help me clean up and we'll talk about it then," she whispered.

Lizzie squeezed her hand in return while the audience, remained oblivious to a broken friendship on the road of being mended, and continue to applaud and cheer loudly.

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Like George, Darcy had watched As You Like It three times in a row, and like George he had noticed Elizabeth's attempt of apologising to Emma behind some flowers on the stage. Unlike George he didn't sulk about it.

Though he must he was too busy admiring Elizabeth to care about anything else.

The pub doors opened once again and Emma and Elizabeth came in arm in arm. All things were forgiven it seemed and the pair shared a joke with one another and headed straight to the bar. Darcy avoided catching either girl's eye and scanned the pub briefly but efficiently enough to discern that Wickham had indeed gone with the young lady that was playing Phebe.

Good, keep him away from Elizabeth and from interfering any more with her friendships. In fact may whatever deity that exists strike him down with lightening so he doesn't ruin any young girl's life ever again.

"I can't believe she forgave Lizzie just like that," George grumbled.

Darcy rolled his eyes. "Emma only ever holds grudges to someone who truly deserves it, like Wickham," he pointed out, "if she was to never forgive anyone who angered her or upset her...well you two would have stopped being friends years ago."

"I have you know that Emma was in the wrong every single time during those incidents!"

"Yes, well you would say that," Darcy said raising an eyebrow, "I, on the other hand, am pleased to see Elizabeth and Emma have made up. It means Emma will be back in Austen House, honestly, how can one girl shed so much hair in the shower in two days?"

"You could talk!"

"Yes, I am so glad after all these years of friendship you realised I can speak."

"Oh shut up," George said good naturedly, "come on admit it, it was nice to have Emma over, and you enjoyed her company."

"I did but not her hair in my plug hole or the sudden disappearance of my biscuits, and certainly not the sound of Taylor Swift at all hours in the day," Darcy said listing only a few of Emma's irritating habits, "and you cannot tell me you enjoyed sleeping on the sofa for the last couple nights."

George rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. He then glanced across the bar where Emma was now doing shots with the rest of Austen House (apart from Fanny who was sipping her lemonade) and his grimace melted away into some sort of sickening adoring expression. Darcy hoped he never made such a face whenever he looked upon Elizabeth or if he did someone will very soon put him out of his misery and shoot him.

George then sighed, it was one of longing rather than long suffering, "I have a feeling I will be taking Emma home tonight judging how quickly she has gone through those shots," he said.

"Shall I expect your return some time after Christmas, then?"

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Chris had been delighted when Marianne asked him to come and see As You Like It with her, and then to join her and the rest of Austen House at the after show party, he had hoped he could have some alone time with her which he has yet to have since he had first met her. Either they had been surrounded by the entirety of Austen House or she was out somewhere on her own little adventure.

He was very quickly disappointed then when it turned out Marianne also invited someone called Willoughby.

Yeah, just Willoughby, like Cher apparently. And yes he laughed at that too.

Willoughby was decent enough, friendly, cheerful, and on the cheeky side much like Marianne. But it quickly became apparent that Chris was nothing but the third wheel to Marianne as she paid more and more attention to Willoughby. His throat stricken and his heart fell to his stomach as Marianne's behaviour became more flirtatious and Willoughby returned it with his own flattering comments and smouldering looks that shouldn't be used before an audience. As he finished his second drink, Marianne and Willoughby were so absorbed in their conversation about some band he had never heard he decided it was better if he was to leave now before he saw something that would truly break his heart.

He should have known someone as young and beautiful as Marianne would never see someone as old and worn as him as something more than a friend.

His goodbye was barely acknowledged and he moved slowly through the crowd towards the door when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and stiffened. It took all of his control to not whirl round and hit his attacker. When he did turn round he was surprised to see Marianne's eyes peering out at him with concern...

...but it wasn't _Marianne_. The short copper curls surrounding a rounder and fuller face was all Ellen. "Have a drink with me;" she said softly, "we haven't had the chance to hang out since last week. Tell me what you've been up to."

He smiled weakly and murmured his assent before allowing her to lead him back to the bar. Just as he walked past, in the corner of his eye, he saw Marianne and Willoughby kissing passionately, his stomach churned and he felt his heartbeat pause for a moment, he had now completely lost any chance with the likes of Marianne Dashwood.

He felt Ellen's hand squeeze his and he tried to shake himself out of his stupor. He still had friends, he didn't – _shouldn't_ – need a girl anyway. He was too broken, too old, and not _Willoughby_ – handsome, charming, cheeky, and bright as a new shiny penny – enough for the likes of her.

It didn't change the fact his heart was thoroughly shattered though.

JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA

Things were beginning to get hazy for Cathy.

At first she had a drink with Harry and he said he thought she was marvellous. Oh he was being too kind! She was terrible compared to Ben, Lizzie, and Elton who were arguably the best actors in the group. They were discussing their favourite parts of the play when Anne suddenly took hold of her and told her that Emma was coming home. Next thing Cathy knew she was having celebratory shots with the girls. Then Emma whisked Fanny away towards Elton, Ellen disappeared, and Lizzie and Anne were discussing past productions leaving Cathy virtually on her own.

She went in search of Harry but couldn't find him anyway and before she knew it she got dragged into three different drinking games, was pennied two times, and was on her fifteenth – maybe sixteenth, she's beginning to lose count – drink when Emma appeared again and whisked her away for a drink of their own.

"Fanny's gone home," Emma told Cathy, "Ellen is talking to Chris, Lizzie and Anne are god knows where, and I think George and Darcy are brooding in a corner somewhere."

"Why did Fanny go home?" Cathy asked.

At least that's what she hoped she said, she had drank so much that it was possible she said something along the lines of 'Wha Fan gone ha?' or worse. And no she means _worse,_ like she could have asked Emma 'why did the vagina go home', which sounded like a terrible, horrible, and _utterly mean_ joke on Fanny's behalf. Cathy has a habit of putting her foot in her mouth when she's drunk and she certainly isn't the most articulate person when she's drunk this amount of alcohol either. Whatever she did say it must have gotten through to Emma...or maybe she's now on the verge of misunderstanding Emma? Who knows?

"She still has to get up in the morning for work," Emma replied, "that and I think, like me, she got fed up with Elton. Why did I think he would be good for her? All he did was ignore her and talk about my directing and kept reverting back to it every time I tried to mention Fanny's talents. Moron."

Before Cathy could reply she heard the familiar chinking sound of a penny going into her glass and groaned.

"Get it down you," Ben said cheerfully.

She turned to look pleadingly at Emma but the traitor just grinned and shook her head. "You know the rules Cathy," she snickered.

So after gulping down a near full drink, as the crowd surrounding her chanted the same song again, Cathy very gleefully put a penny in Emma's drink.

Five times.

Revenge is sweet when you have no freaking clue what you're doing.

Then she lost Emma and she had no idea where anyone is as she staggered around the pub struggling to find someone that seemed vaguely familiar. She also started to feel rather queasy and she wanted nothing more than to go home and cuddle her new best friend the toilet.

She bumped into something hard and warm and almost fell back onto the floor until someone caught her firmly.

Whoever it was smelt revolting, terrible cologne and smoke, she tried to pull away instantly but the person held onto her tightly.

"Hello Kitty Cat."

"John," she groaned.

"Came to see your show with your brother," John said oblivious to her struggling, "we thought it was brill. You looked very pretty in your white dress at the end. A Pretty Kitty indeed."

"Thank you," Cathy said desperately seeking for someone to save her.

Much to her dismay there was no one she knew around apart from her brother and Isabella. She knew they wouldn't save her, not because they seem to like the idea of her and John, but because they were eating each other's faces. Yeah there was no romantic bone in her that would call that snogging. It was a disgusting sight to see and her stomach churned even more as bile flooded her mouth.

She turned back to face John and she was even more sickened at the disgusting expression on his face. It was revolting. He was staring at her like she was something to eat, that she was nothing but his prey, like she was pretty but it wasn't a good thing, and she wanted nothing more than to run away and hide under her bed covers from such a look.

"What do you say, Kitty Cat?" he inquired. "Would you like to try some kissing to?"

"Please," she mumbled woozily, _please don't kiss me, please go away, please someone save me, please leave me alone,_ she tried to say but the words were nothing but bile in her mouth, she swallowed it back and tried again, "please..."

"Yes," John murmured, "yes that's right Kitty Cat."

He then leaned down and Cathy became more and more terrifyingly aware that he was going to kiss her.

Just as his lips were about to touch hers though she suddenly ducked her head down and then...

And then...

...she vomited violently all over his feet.

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"George!"

One moment George Knightly was looking for Darcy – who seemed to have vanished during the short trip to the loo – and then the next he was suddenly attacked from the behind by Emma. Her arms wrapped tightly round his waist and her head resting on his back. He sighed and turned round only to have Emma rewrap herself round him and her head nesting itself on his chest. Elton, who George had no doubt had only moments ago been flirting – and failing – with Emma, looked furiously frustrated and immediately stormed off in a huffy rage.

"George," Emma said as she looked up at him brightly, "you know I love you, don't you?"

"How much have you had to drink?"

"It's not my fault," she pouted, "Cathy pennied me five times. _Five times_, George."

"I'm taking you home."

"_Aww_...do you have to, George?"

"Well no, but I don't see any of the girls around and there' no way on earth I'm leaving you here to cause trouble," George said unaffected by Emma's wide pleading eyes. So he tells himself. "Where is your coat?"

Emma shrugged and continued to hold onto him which made it highly difficult to find her coat and bag (fortunately Anne was looking after it – unfortunately neither she nor Lizzie were in the right state to take Emma home) and then even more so difficult when he went to say goodbye to Darcy and Chris.

"Have fun," Darcy smirked.

"Yeah," Chris agreed with a similar (and very evil) smirk, "good luck soldier."

"Piss off, the pair of you," George grumbled. He took about two steps when he stumbled over Emma one time too often and halted to a stop. "Emma I can't move if you don't let go."

"Then I shan't!"

Darcy and Chris howled with laughter behind George. "If you don't let me go," George said warningly, "I won't ever bring back your stuff that you left at mine."

Emma released him, not quickly enough for his threat to have worked, but she released him and they left the pub without too much of a struggle (side stepping the vomit somebody left behind) and walked home. As always it was difficult to walk Emma back when she was in such a state – he was constantly trying to keep her off the road and back onto the pavement – but before they knew it, they were back in Austen House just as Emma was regaling George on who she loves.

"...and I love our monstrous lot, of course, they are my nephews and nieces, and I can never forget the day I first held each of them," Emma babbled as George walked behind her on the stairs. She had staggered backwards twice and he wasn't going to risk her breaking her neck on the stairs! "I love Harriet, I love Taylor and Mr Weston, and I even love Miss Bates even if she is the most annoying person in all of Highbury! I love everyone in Austen House, I love Ellen, I love Lizzie, I love Anne, I love Cathy, and I love Fanny, did you hear that Fanny? I love you!"

"Emma, hush," George hissed as he hustled her quickly past Fanny's bedroom door, "you shouldn't wake Fanny up, she has work in the morning."

Emma giggled mischievously. "Can't wake Fanny up," she agreed, "we blondes have to stick together."

"Of course you do," George agreed.

They finally arrived at Emma's bedroom door when Emma spoke up again, "George?"

"Yes, Emma?" George asked in a very long suffering voice.

"I love you too," she said quickly, "you're on my list of people that I love more than anything in the world. I love you more than all of them put together. I love you the most."

George smiled at that. it wasn't the first time she told him this, she said it often when she was a child, and then whenever she drank more than she should she told him it again. It always warmed him to know she loved him just as much as he loves her.

"I love you too," he said, "now go to-"

His order was suddenly interrupted. The order that would have seen Emma tucked safely into bed while he would either end up on the sofa (making his neck ache even more) or have made the journey back home where he would have undoubtedly collapsed on the bed only to belatedly realise something rock hard of Emma's was there – like her hairbrush. Instead Emma interrupted him. She changed it all.

She kissed him.

It was, at first, a tentative brush of lips against his, but when he pressed his lips firmly against hers, it deepened. Emma's arms were looped round behind his neck and his hands were firmly planted on her waist when the kiss suddenly took a much more passionate and heated turn. The bedroom door opened behind him and they staggered in – still kissing – George was barely aware of what was happening, he was too busy focusing on kissing Emma back, making her moan into his mouth, taking her jacket it off (the sound of two jackets falling to the ground told him that Emma's hands weren't idle either), when suddenly the back of his legs hit Emma's bed and together they fell onto his, Emma on top of George, and the kiss broke.

"Emma," George gasped for breath, "I-"

Emma snorted.

For one terrifying moment he had thought she just played a cruel joke on him, that she had played him for her own twisted drunken amusement, but then she clung to him tighter and mumbled something nonsensical sleepily, and he realised that she had fallen asleep on top of him.

They had been in the middle of what was probably the best kiss of George Knightly's life and Emma had a gall to fall asleep in the middle of it all.

And now here he was lying on Emma's bed, uncomfortably aware of how aroused he was, trapped beneath Emma's leg that was draped over him and by an arm tightly wrapped round his chest as her face was still buried into his neck. There was no way to escape and go home in this situation...

_Goddaminit Emma! _

**Author's Note: this chapter is dedicated to Iambbq, who wanted more George/Emma, I hoped this filled your requirements. To the Guest reviewer who wanted weekly updates I am going to have to say no...just no. In fact this is my last update until March, I have a major essay due in on the 22****nd**** (though fortunately I can talk about Shakespeare despite it being a history essay on witches...god I love my course), I have a pile of research I need to get through for my dissertation before this Friday, I have a pile of weekly reading I need to do on top of all of this, and I got a job – well sort of – in a charity shop, it's only six hours a week but it eats into my study time which eats into my writing time, and then finally we stupidly (very compelled into doing it) agreed with our director that we should do As You Like It in the original Shakespearean accent (he brought in the world leading expert Professor David Crystal to talk about it and I am not kidding that man's voice is magical. If he told us that jumping off the Menai bridge would make us better Shakespearean actors there would have suddenly been a stampede) making us the seventh production in the whole world to do it which means I'm stuck learning a new accent on top of all my work, and then finally (finally!) it's my birthday on the 26****th**** and since it's my 21****st**** (and my parents or friends can't believe I managed to live this long, they all had money riding on the fact I'd blow myself up in my First Year) I'm busy from the 23****rd**** (PHANTOM OF THE OPERA! DAD IS THE BEST DAD EVER!) to the 28****th**** (probably very hung over) celebrating before I go back to doing some more work – fortunately though after my birthday the only things I need to focus on is a small non-assessed essay and my dissertation presentation so I should eventually produce a chapter by mid March in between doing actual work. **


	15. Chapter 14: The Morning After

_Rule Number Two: No one is to spend more than twenty minutes in the bathroom during the mornings. People have classes and work to go to and need to use it as well.  
_**I don't know why you're all looking at me; I wasn't the one who spent an hour washing my hair, was I?  
**_Rule Number Seven: Emma is not allowed to have more than three of her nieces and nephews over when she is on babysitting duty.  
_**I'm sorry, they're not usually that bad, and I did have everything replaced and paid for that plumber as well! - **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse.**_

Emma woke up feeling like death boiled over.

She was unnaturally hot and exhausted, and to make things worse her throat was so dry – like Sahara Desert dry – so that left her torn between pulling out of her bedcovers and remaining in bed or getting out completely in search of a glass of water. In the end thirstiness won over exhaustion though she quickly regretted her decision when she realised (far too late, she was already on her feet) that her 'duvet' had been George draped all over. With a sigh she quickly grabs her empty glass on her bedside table and rushes to the bathroom, if she is fast enough then perhaps she'll get back before George wakes up and can get back into bed without disturbing him.

Unfortunately she almost collided straight into Ellen's back when she entered the bathroom. Ellen was too busy comforting Cathy who seemed to be heaving into the toilet. "Everything all right?" Emma asked.

"Cathy just drank a bit too much last night," Ellen murmured reassuringly.

Emma slid past Cathy and turned the tap on. "Urgh," Cathy moaned, "it sounds like someone just turned the Niagara Falls on."

Emma promptly turned the tap off and sat herself down on the edge of the bath. "Jesus, Cathy," she murmured, "How much did you have to drink last night?"

"I don't know," Cathy groaned into the toilet, "just that I'm never doing it again. Ever."

"Ah, you say that," Ellen said gently, "but you'll find yourself drinking once more by Christmas."

Cathy's only reply was to vomit once more. "Good lord," Lizzie said at the doorway, "are you still puking? What on earth did you drink last night, paint vanisher?"

"Go away," Cathy moaned.

Lizzie ignored Cathy's plea and sat herself down next to Emma on the bath. After the usual morning pleasantries (which were rarely pleasant if anyone was actually honest about it) Anne joined them as well which led to another round of morning pleasantries and Cathy moaning to herself. Lizzie then gave Emma a once over and raised her eyebrow, "Aren't those the clothes you wore last night?" she asked.

"Yep," Emma said.

"Is he up there then?" Lizzie rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. There was no need to ask who _he_ was, everyone knew. It was a fact of life. Emma's he will always be George Knightly.

"Well none of you cows bothered taking me home."

"Excuse me!" Ellen cried out – Cathy groaned at that – indignantly, "I have you know I was too busy taking care of Cathy. I may be a damn slight more sensible than you lot put together but that doesn't make me your mother."

"All right, all right," Emma grinned, "calm down, I was only teasing, I wouldn't expect any of you to take me home."

"Back to the subject at hand," Lizzie said with an evilly amused twinkle in her eyes, "_so_?" she pressed Emma. Emma knew what the twinkle was about, she experienced it at least once a week since she turned fourteen and her friends started to think more about boys.

Nonetheless she asked, "So what?"

"Is George up there?"

"Yes," Emma sighed.

"I doubt either of you were in the right mind to blow up the airbed last night..." Lizzie trailed off and suddenly Emma became aware of Ellen, Anne, and Cathy staring at her as they caught on Lizzie's implication. "So?" Lizzie prompted.

Emma rolled her eyes. It was part of an act she had mastered years ago. People always thought that she and George must be a couple and there had been nothing she could do to dissuade them of the idea other than casually brushing it off.

She did, for one fraction of a second, consider telling them about the kiss. The memory almost made her flush but she didn't want Lizzie to notice. She didn't want to share the kiss. She wanted it to remain between her and George until they sorted out where exactly they were. So instead she shrugged.

"We shared a bed _platonically_," she stressed the last word, "nothing happened between me and George, and nothing ever will. We're just friends."

Lizzie looked a little disappointed, as did Ellen and Anne, but Cathy on the other hand turned back to the toilet and declared, "Probably for the best, men are useless, I'll never marry a bloke."

"Well as long as you don't marry Ellen," Lizzie said cheerfully, "we promised ourselves to one another if the whole being straight thing didn't work, and you can't have Emma she's promised to Fanny, so that leaves Anne since Taylor cruelly betrayed her by marrying a man of all things."

"I survived the heartbreak," Anne said dryly.

"I won't marry a woman either," Cathy declared to the toilet, "I've decided to marry this toilet. It has been so kind and considerate to me seeing as I keep vomiting in it."

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Ellen muttered.

Anne, Lizzie, and Emma really couldn't help it. One glance between the three of them and they were suddenly howling with laughter. It didn't help that Emma lost her balance and grabbed hold of Lizzie only to fall in the bath with both her and Anne. The three of them sat in the bath tub (legs up in the air) cackling away at Cathy's silly melodramatic love declaration and Ellen's indignation much to Cathy's distress.

Once they managed to calm down somewhat, Lizzie spoke up again; "You see its people like you Cathy that prevent gay marriages being voted through," she said. "They always said that if they legislated homosexual marriages people will be demanding their right to marry an animal or inanimate object. Your desire is besmirching the sanctuary of marriage," she teased.

"What sanctuary of marriage?" Emma snorted. "Marriage was created to cement political alliances between families. There is nothing sanctuary about it. The fact two people want to declare their love to one another in their choice of religious worship is far more sacred than whatever the more traditional Tories think."

"Emma," Ellen sighed, "can we not discuss politics in the bathroom?"

"Yes," Anne agreed, "some of us need to shower before class."

"I apologise," Cathy murmured against the toilet. Everyone was about to reassure Cathy that it wasn't her fault for the hold up in the bathroom (though it really was) and that when she is feeling a little better she can move to the down stairs toilet and they (Anne and Lizzie) can have quick showers, when Cathy suddenly spoke up again. "When I campaign for my rights I shall make it clear that my unnatural lusts were not inspired by gay rights."

It was then when the girls realised that Cathy hadn't been paying attention to the conversation after Lizzie had spoken and the sudden – unexpected – apology caused them to burst into laughter again.

"Three cackling witches in the bath tub," George's voice broke through their laughter. "I thought the play was last night not this morning."

"Wrong play moron," Emma called out, "we haven't done Macbeth for years."

"Ah, so you're reprising your role as Witch One for Cathy's benefit then?"

"Oh...shut up."

"Witty," Lizzie commented.

"And you can shut up as well!" Emma flushed. "Now I think we should leave Cathy and her new love alone and all get dressed. Showers can wait till Cathy is better. Then we'll go down the road and get a fry up, how does that sound?"

"I can't," George said stiffly, "I have to get ready for class and I have some marking to do. I haven't got the luxury of lying about like you undergraduates."

"Oh," Emma said a little taken aback, "well...I'll see you tonight, though?"

"No," George said shortly, "I have too much to do."

It was then when Emma realised something utterly gut wrenching...he didn't like her kiss. It had repelled him and now he was distancing himself from her. He was going to avoid her until things went back to normal.

She became aware of Lizzie staring at her questioningly and shrugged casually. "Sure," she said, "I'll see you later, then."

George nodded and stiffly bade them goodbye before walking off. They waited in an awkward silence until the front door slammed shut. "Jeeze," Lizzie said, "what crawled up his arse and died?"

"Lizzie!" Ellen scolded.

Emma didn't answer. She couldn't. She didn't want to admit to her friends what she had suspected all along...

He didn't want her.

He didn't want her, and that was the end of that.

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When George woke up alone in Emma's bed he had thought the worst. He had absolutely no doubt that Emma had woken up, took one look at him, and ran off before it got awkward. The best would be that she woke up with no memory and they could carry on. The worst would be that she did remember last night and freaked out.

He was leaning towards the worst. It was always the worst when it came to them. The worst timing especially seemed to be their constant.

With a determination to speak to Emma immediately about the night before (before he lost his bottle, ran back home, and tried to pretend nothing happened when he next sees her) he got out of bed and marched purposely out of the room, down the stairs, and along the hallway when he heard Emma.

"...nothing happened between me and George, and nothing ever will. We're just friends."

He halted at a stop at the sound of those words and for a moment he would swear that his heart had dropped to his stomach. Emma's carelessly cruel words began to echo through his mind.

_Nothing happened between me and George, and nothing ever will. We're just friends_.

But something did happen. They kissed. She initiated it!

_Nothing happened between me and George, and nothing ever will. We're just friends_

Ah...but she was drunk, completely inebriated and lost all inhibitions, she probably would have kissed one of the girls if they had been the one to take her home. She might have even kissed a lamppost or something equally ridiculous thinking it was that actor she fancied. He didn't need to be there for her to kiss something.

_Just friends._

They were just friends, and nothing more.

_Nothing happened and nothing ever will. _

And no matter what he might think, what he might occasionally think of, consider in a second of insanity, fantasise in a moment of stupidity, nothing ever will happen between them because he was George Knightly, and she was Emma Woodhouse, and they were only ever...

_Just friends. _

He wanted to throw up.

There was a loud cackle that echoed throughout the bathroom and his mind barely registered that it was hysterical laughter. They were laughing about him. The idea of him and Emma was so fucking funny that Lizzie, Anne, and _Emma_ were rolling on their backs in the bath cackling away like three witches over a cauldron.

It was needless to say that he did not react well to that and when the front door slammed behind him, and the cool air hit his face, he realised exactly what he had just done.

He had just rudely brushed off Emma. He did it without a shred of kindness and in front of her friends. He let his injured pride take hold of him and didn't acknowledge her bewildered and rather hurt expression until now.

To make things worse her stuff was still at his and she'll need it tonight seeing as all her work in on her laptop.

There was no doubt in the world that she will make him pay for this painfully.

You know...it was times like this that George couldn't help but think Darcy was right...he was such a _fucking moron_.

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"So you heard from Lord Prissy Pants, then?"

Emma, being the fascinating and enthusiastic conversationalist she is, grunted behind her laptop. Her typing frantically (well more like her typing a couple words before pressing the backspace frantically) was virtually the only sound in the kitchen as Ellen chopped quietly, and Lizzie had only just entered in search of something to drink only to find that Emma had finally got her laptop back from George alias Lord Prissy Pants.

Since that incident in the bathroom a couple days ago Emma had been a little down and very frustrated as she tried to get her much needed laptop back to finish off an assignment. Lizzie didn't know what was up with George...okay that was a lie, she had a very strong suspicion that the reason George was acting like he had a broomstick shoved up where the sun doesn't shine was because Emma had forgiven Lizzie for last week. Undoubtedly he thought that Lizzie should have done more grovelling.

"Was he still being a total dic-?"

This time Lizzie got an immediate reaction as Emma tore off her reading glasses (they weren't real, very good imitation ones that she had brought some time in First Year because they make her feel 'student-y' and yes Lizzie laughed in Emma's face at that) and glared at Lizzie, "please do not swear in front of my niece," she said curtly, "or insult her uncle...though to answer your question, yes, yes he was."

"Niece?"

Lizzie quickly stepped round the kitchen table and ducked down to see two year old Baby Em playing with her stuffed bunny, chewing on one of its ears, and blinking up at her with big blue eyes, just like her aunt's. She was the picture of innocence but Lizzie knew otherwise...Baby Em was only a little more innocent compared to her four older siblings and it was only due to lack of ability to move as fast as the others than anything else.

"Where are the other monsters then?" Lizzie asked.

"My nieces and nephews are not monsters!"

Even Ellen snorted at that behind them and Emma's protest was weakly made as well. As much as Emma undoubtedly adored her nephews and nieces she couldn't cope spending more than a couple hours with them at a time. They were horrific little monsters when the five of them were together and Lizzie can't figure out for the life of her how they turned out like that. After all their parents are so boring. Nothing against John and Isabella Knightly but compared to their much younger siblings they were incredibly boring and paled in the comparison to the vibrant brilliance of Emma and the striking confidence of George. In fact Lizzie can barely remember what they looked like and she had met them several times in the last two years.

"That doesn't answer my question," Lizzie said standing to her full height, "please tell me we don't have all five of them hiding around the house."

"Don't be silly," Emma snorted, "I wouldn't break the rules. George has the eldest two," Lizzie sincerely hoped that John Knightly Junior and Harold Knightly (poor kid was no doubt bullied at school, no wonder he was such a brat, and did Lizzie mention he was named after Emma's father? Yes, Isabella and John also lacked imagination and named all five of their children after family members, that is how boring they are) were making Darcy's life a living nightmare, "and Iz and Geo are in the living room with Cathy."

"The biter and the kicker," Lizzie moaned.

"Iz has almost out grown the biting thing," Emma reassured her, it wasn't very reassuring, "and Geo barely kicks anything to begin with!"

"Tell that to my abused shins," Lizzie snarked as her poor shins whimpered at the awful memory, "and how long will they be staying here?"

"Long after dinner," Emma sighed, "John is away all week for a conference and Bella needs the kids out of the house so she can wrap- err I mean prepare for Father Christmas."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at this. "Emma, the kid is two I doubt she will-"

"Speaking of preparing things," Ellen interrupted swiftly, "have you thought what we can do for Anne's birthday?"

"Not break the boiler this year is a start," Lizzie grinned.

"I said I was sorry!" Emma cried out. "Over and over again. It's been a year now and you're _still_ not letting me live it down?"

"I'm only reminding you," Lizzie said sweetly, "after all we don't know if your mind is still addled by all that alcohol you drank over the weekend."

Emma tried to kick Lizzie (proving she was most definitely Geo's aunt) but halted to a stop when she realised her niece was still under the table allowing Lizzie to dance off to safety and victory at Ellen's side. Ellen just shot them both an exasperated look.

"Anne's birthday, dears," she reminded them, "its next week and we still haven't done anything for it."

"She won't want a big night out," Emma said thoughtfully, "so we can stay in just the six of us, maybe George if he's not too busy, and a couple people from her writers group. I can get that Italian restaurant she likes to deliver-"

"As long as you're paying," Lizzie interrupted, "that place is pricy enough when you eat in but they charge a fricking fortune if you want them to deliver."

"Of course," Emma agreed, "and we'll get a cake, some decorations, and let Anne choose a movie to watch. It'll be a perfect night for her."

Lizzie had just been about to say something when a shrill loud scream cut her off before she even began to speak and Cathy ran out of the living room.

"Are you okay?" Ellen asked.

"Iz just bit me!" Cathy wailed as she held up her hand. Lizzie peered at it and instantly winced at the deep marks that were bleeding a little bit. "I told her that she couldn't watch Two and a Half Men and tried to take the remote off her and she just bit me!"

"Jesus, is your niece some sort of vampire or what, Emma?" Lizzie commented.

"I'll have a word with her," Emma sighed, "I am sorry Cathy; she's supposed to have out grown this biting phrase."

"Come on darling," Ellen murmured comfortingly, "we'll get this bite disinfected and Lizzie can make us all a cuppa while Emma can deal with her bra-I mean niece and nephew."

Lizzie raised her eyebrow at the presumption that she would make the tea and at Ellen's little slip up. It was a statement on how truly horrible Emma's nieces and nephews were for even Ellen to think of them as brats. The only person who has more patience than St Ellen was Fanny, and she had never once thought the worst of the little horror-bags. After she decided pointing out the slip or arguing against making the tea was pointless Lizzie was midway making three cups of very strong tea (they were going to need it if the children from hell were staying till late) when Emma came bursting back into the kitchen clutching her scowling niece's arm tightly.

"Have you seen Geo?" she asked urgently. "He slipped out while I was-"

There was a loud high pitched shriek upstairs that sounded awfully like Anne.

"Never mind," Emma sighed, "it sounds like Anne has found him."

It was agreed amongst the sensible members of Austen House (e.g. everyone but Fanny and Emma) later that night that the Knightly children have certainly put them off ever having children of their own.

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Ellen had been on the verge of sleep when her bedroom door opened and Marianne crept in.

"Ellen," she whispered, "Ellen!"

The lamp on Ellen's bedside table switched on and blinded her sleepy eyes while simultaneously waking her up fully. "Marianne!" she hissed. "Where on earth have you been? Do you know what time it is?"

"It's only eleven o'clock," Marianne said climbing into Ellen's bed and forcing her to make room for her wildly impertinent sister, "I swear you and your friends are nothing more than a bunch of old ladies."

"You'd want to sleep," Ellen grumbled quietly, "if you had spent your evening chasing after little nightmares."

Marianne smiled sweetly and puzzled which only served to irritate Ellen even more. "You've been missing for two days, Marianne, two days," she hissed, "would it have killed you to send me a text just to say if you're all right?"

"I wasn't exactly in the right position to text," Marianne smirked.

It took a couple moments for the true meaning of Marianne's words to sink in. "Oh dear god!" Ellen moaned. "I hope you at least practised safe sex."

"Yes, mother," Marianne rolled her eyes, "Oh Ellen!" she cried out clasping her sister's hands. "He is the most wonderful man I have ever met! So kind, witty, good looking and the best lover-"

"I don't need to know any of the details," Ellen interrupted abruptly.

"Killjoy," Marianne muttered but she smiled dreamily, "I'm in love. We're in love, and what more, I am no longer your burden dear sister, I am moving in with the man of my dreams tomorrow!"

"_What?!"_

"_Shh_!" Marianne hissed with a finger at her lips, "You don't want to wake your housemates do you?" Marianne scolded.

"How can you move in with Willoughby just like that?!" Ellen demanded in a whisper. "You have only known him for two weeks! It's one thing to think yourself in love with him and act like a-"

"A what?" Marianne interrupted. "A slut? A brazen hussy? A whore? Come dear sister tell me what you really think it would be such a refreshing change from the usual sensible nonsense you spout."

Ellen glowered at Marianne. "I have never thought you were any of those things," she murmured, "but I do think you're jumping into something far too fast. What you feel for Willoughby could be eventually become the real thing but right now it seems to be nothing but an infatuation and you're going to get your heart broken."

"What would you know?" Marianne spat out. "I love him with my entire being, my body, heart, and soul are all his for the taking, and I would gladly leap into something blindly because I know he would catch me. It may seem quick for the likes of you, sensible, responsible, and so very dull Ellen, but spontaneity is part of something of being in love. Perhaps if you were more spontaneous you wouldn't be so alone now."

Ellen felt like she had been punched in the gut rather than ranted at. Marianne had always known which buttons to press and this was the worst one for her to press. It should remain a button untouched, dusty and hidden, for the rest of their lives but occasionally when Marianne was upset and felt like Ellen couldn't understand her (and her love for Willoughby in this case) she would press this button with all her force and the reaction she would get would vary depending how wound up Ellen is.

Fortunately for Marianne tonight Ellen could shrug off the aching hurt of a broken heart tonight even if she did have to wrap her arms round herself to give herself a little comfort.

"I am not alone," she said quietly looking at her old David Tenant and Billie Piper poster, "I have very good friends, a loving mother and sister, and you."

"That's not the same, Ellen," Marianne said softly.

"I know," Ellen whispered dully, she felt hot tears of shame and loneliness prick in her eyes, "but it's enough."

"I'm sorry."

"You always are."

"I love him."

"I know."

"I'm moving out tomorrow morning."

"Okay..."

"I'll visit."

"You should."

"I don't want to fight anymore," Marianne said, her arms now wrapped round Ellen, and her head resting on Ellen's bosom, "this is my last night here. I want us to part on good terms."

Ellen ran her fingers through Marianne's hair. "Then we should sleep," she murmured, "Undoubtedly you will need all your strength tomorrow."

Marianne giggled and soon enough they laid there side by side whispering secrets and stories like they used to when they were children before it had gone all wrong. Then eventually Marianne drifted off to sleep and she left Ellen to lay there entrapped in her thoughts. Spontaneity, huh? It would not have made a difference whether she was spontaneous or not, she would have always gotten her heart broken.

That's what she feared for Marianne really because while Willoughby may or may not be a good man he would definitely break her little sister's heart.

Because whether or not they intended to do it, or they were unintentionally charming, whether or not they are a good man or a charming womaniser or even the most abusive monsters, men will always break a heart.

It was what they did best.

**Author's Note: to the guest reviewer that used Iambbq's name, while I am flattered you enjoyed my fic to such an extent I do not appreciate you using my friend's name in order to demand a fast update. Although you didn't cause anything beyond minor confusion it is still fraud and I would prefer it if you review at all to use your own name or just 'guest' in the future. I haven't reported it since it didn't cause any damage but if you continue to use someone else's name to review my fic I will have no choice but to report you to the admin staff. To everyone else I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and I will hopefully update again soon now my workload has finally gone down a bit. **


	16. Chapter 15: Forgetting Anne Elliot

_...but Anne, with an elegance of mind and sweetness of character, which must have placed her high with any people of real understanding, was nobody with either father or sister; her word had no weight, her convenience was always to give away – she was only Anne. – Persuasion by Jane Austen. _

Anne was used to being forgotten about.

She was the middle child with an older, louder, and melodramatic sister, and a very pretty younger sister. People's eyes tended to drag from Mary's antics right to Elizabeth's beauty, skipping Anne entirely. Mary has never had the capability to remember anything beyond her own little world and Elizabeth has never cared to remember anything that had nothing to do with herself. So it was often for Anne to have been left behind by her sisters, forgotten for the day, just as it became a common thing for her father to forget she was still in the room. once she had her 'teenage rebellion', as her aunt called it, and stopped seeking out affection from her father, he had forgotten about her, and had to be reminded by Mary of all people on several occasions.

After Sixth Form her classmates had forgotten about her with ease. She had bumped into them many times in the last two years and they struggle to recall her name during the awkward conversation.

To make her more forgettable, Anne's birthday was at a very awkward time. It was right in the middle of the Christmas season where people are either rushing to get last minute research done, or to get their Christmas shopping done, or packing for the holidays, or going to various Christmas parties to remember that Anne's birthday was just round the corner.

In her First Year Anne had no doubts that her birthday would be unremarkable as nothing but a card from her aunt came in the post, she had research to finish before leaving for the holidays, and all her new friends could only talk about the Christmas parties or what they wanted to do over the holidays.

It had surprised her greatly when the girls had not only recognised her birthday but held a small surprise party. It had horrified her more in the Second Year when Emma attempted to do another surprise party and only created disaster, and now she was merely pleased to see her friends round the kitchen table singing her happy birthday after they had just shouted 'surprise' for the third year in a row.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Sit down, sit down," Emma herded Anne into a chair, "we have good food, good drink, and good company-"

"That's debatable," Lizzie muttered.

Despite, what one would consider, her cruel words, Lizzie hadn't meant anything nasty by it as her tone was more good-natured than usual and the look she shot Marianne Dashwood was much fonder than it had been in the beginning of November. "Oh," Marianne said flipping her hair back, "you missed me really."

Anne grinned at that, because as much as Lizzie will deny it (as she was loudly doing so now), they had actually missed Marianne. They missed having to scream at her to get out of the shower, they missed her cooking, they missed her music at all hours, and they missed her story telling in the evening. Marianne had filled Austen House with drama and noise and for the last six days she had been gone they had actually missed her.

"To be honest I'm surprised you came," Ellen said as she placed a plate in front of Marianne and Lizzie, "I thought you would be in honeymoon mode with Willoughby."

"Ah, Willoughby," Marianne sighed dreamily, "he had to help out a friend this evening and it's going to end with drinks, so I would have been on my own in the flat anyway. Besides why would I miss Anne's birthday?"

Anne smiled warmly at Marianne and then at Ellen as she placed a plate of carbonara in front of her. "Thank you," she said to both sisters.

As soon as possible she dived her fork into her dish and savoured the rich cheese sauce and freshly cut thick ham and pasta with her eyes shut in reverence. She knew exactly where this meal came from and she cannot believe that Emma (because it was always Emma behind these schemes) managed to get hold of this in between their last class this evening and when Anne arrived home barely two hours later but then Emma has always managed to do the impossible somehow.

As she took her second bite the conversation moved onto Christmas plans without her realising. Emma was taking care of her brats (Anne hadn't forgiven Geo for destroying her room), Lizzie was going to spend it with her childhood best friend, Cathy and Fanny with their families, Ellen was going home just before Christmas Eve after her shifts with Tesco are finished and Marianne...well...

"You can't stay in London for Christmas!" Ellen cried out. "Mum would worry and upset herself if you do that."

"I can't leave Willoughby on his own," Marianne said calmly as she twirled spaghetti onto her fork, "the poor darling has now family to call his own apart from me. It is my duty as his lover to care for him at this horrible holiday that constantly reminds him how alone he is in the world."

Lizzie rolled her eyes at this and Emma choked on her macaroni before she elbowed Lizzie as a silent reprimand.

"This has nothing to do with Willoughby at all," Ellen scowled, "this is you abandoning me to _Fran_."

The two sisters shuddered at the name and Anne swapped a concerned look with Fanny before exchanging another with Lizzie. Never before in all the time they had known Ellen had they heard of a Fran before but she certainly didn't sound pleasant at all.

"Of course not, darling," Marianne said with shameful cheer, "it would be bad enough to spend Christmas with Mum and the Jenkins getting drunk, Meg whinging how bored she is, and the Queen babbling on the TV but throw in Fran and Jack in the mix and I may just commit homicide or maybe suicide, depends how desperate I am."

"Fran?" Emma questioned.

It had been silently deliberated that Emma would voice the question they were all thinking. Cathy had shaken her head vigorously when they had looked to her, Fanny looked down at her dinner, Anne had quickly decided to take another bite of her delicious meal, and Lizzie had rolled her eyes as if to say I'm not going to waste my time asking, so that had left Emma who had no problem at all inquiring into other people's businesses.

"Our sister in law," Ellen murmured.

"Our _monster_ in law," Marianne corrected, "I have never met a bigger bitch than Fran Ferrars-Dashwood. She's one hell of a gold digger and once she has her claws in she never lets go, we barely get to see our brother dearest as it is, but with her around we only see him around Christmas and the occasional time she wants to show off her new car or something equally ridiculous."

"So wouldn't you prefer to go home for Christmas and see your brother?" Emma asked.

"God no," Marianne said happily, "I can't stand my brother. He's so boring and dull...and stupid to let the likes of Fran get her claws into him."

"That's not very nice, is it?" Cathy asked.

"Yeah, well, Jack doesn't like me very much," Marianne shrugged her elegant shoulders like a cat would, "he thinks I'm reckless, uncaring, and a very selfish and spoilt being."

"And he would be right," Ellen teased.

"Ha, ha," Marianne waved her fork which splattered sauce all over the table and Fanny's unimpressed face. "It's easy for you to say, you're his favourite."

"I am not!"

"Yeah you are," Marianne waved her fork at Ellen's direction, Anne could foresee Lizzie snatching that fork and shoving into Marianne's mouth if it had continued, "Meg is too noisy, messy, and ungrateful, remember? While you are so sensible and mature, it's why Fran hates you more than me, well that and because of Ed-"

Ellen stood up abruptly, "I have some wine in the fridge, will anyone care for a glass?"

Anne took one look at her friend's impassive expression and another, better, look at her friend's watering eyes, and spoke up before anyone could press Ellen more on the mysterious 'Ed', "I would quite like a glass, Ellen," she said quietly.

Ellen smiled warmly at her and soon enough they all had a glass of wine and everyone toasted in Anne's honour and returned back to their dinner.

The rest f the evening went smoothly as Anne was sang to once again before she blew out the candles of her cake. Then she opened her presents from everyone which varied from the latest book from her favourite author from Lizzie to an interesting pair of beaded earrings that Anne would never had considered herself before from Marianne. Afterwards they watched Anne's favourite film and eventually went to bed after several more glasses of wine and good conversation.

After a day like this, Anne couldn't even bring herself to consider the idea that she was so easily forgettable...not with friends like Emma, Lizzie, Ellen, Fanny, Cathy, and Marianne around.

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Even though George has never performed, directed, produced, or even been part of the tech crew for a play he and the members of the Drama Club had always considered him as a member, and therefore it wasn't a surprise for anyone when he turned up for the Christmas Party on Thursday evening.

What did surprise everyone was the distance between him and Emma when he did sit down it had been virtually on the other end of the table from where Emma sat with two other members of Austen House and three other members of the Drama Club between them.

"You and Emma, all right?" Ben asked nervously.

"We're fine."

"Err...right..." there was an uncomfortable silence and George was consciously aware that majority of the table was watching him. "Are you sure?" Ben asked loudly.

"Yes," George said in his deadly, non-nonsense, teacher voice, "now excuse me; I would like to get a drink."

He stormed off to the bar cursing all impertinent children. Because that's what they are, children, all of them apart from a few exceptions. This time next year he'll be teaching some of them for goodness sake! And here they are, questioning him on his personal life. It was none of their business. It was certainly not Elton's business though he certainly was leaning in and looking all eager to know the answer. He obviously couldn't wait to find out why George wasn't sitting next to Emma and the moment he realised he had a chance to make a move-

_Goddaminit_! He shouldn't think like this, he had no right to, and all it was doing was making him worse.

He sighed heavily and leaned against the bar as he waited. The barman was quite preoccupied with several people from various parties demanding their drinks. It took him a couple moments to realise someone was leaning against the bar beside him. Someone with slender arms and lovely hands, someone who lovingly (he hoped) wore a silver watch with a slight Celtic twist to it on her right wrist that he had gifted her on her eighteenth birthday.

His hand itched to take hers.

"You shouldn't let Ben wind you up so easily," Emma said eventually, "he gets off on that."

"Says you, you let him wind you up all the time."

"Yeah, well, I...oh _shut up_!"

He laughed. He couldn't help it, Emma was so adorably frustrated. He adored her to pieces just for that. Bugger he was screwed.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "for being a git. I was just...busy and cranky because of it. All the drama surrounding Lizzie had caused me to forget about a load of marking I had to do," which was actually true enough just not the real reason why he had been in a foul mood for the last couple weeks. "The realisation on that morning...well I was just angry with myself. Not at you. Never at you." that was true enough the moment he had shut the front door to Austen House. "So...friends again?"

Emma smiled at him radiantly, "We never had stopped being friends."

She then suddenly threw her arms round his neck and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back tighter than he probably have ever held her, and if he had nuzzled her hair and ghost his lips on her forehead...well it was no one else's business, was it?

When they returned to the table with their drinks George wasn't really that surprised (but very pleased) to find that everyone had moved down a chair and there was now a space next to Emma for him to sit down.

The night, despite it's rough beginning, ended very well.

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Lizzie just wanted to die.

Who's _fucking fantastic_ idea was it to have the Christmas Party the night before she had to go home? She had been woken up by her screaming alarm clock (which may or may not need to be replaced), kept awake by Emma shouting for her lost jumper, and had only just struggled down the stairs with her heavy suitcase only to almost knock out a running brat.

"Harold!" George barked. "I told you to stay in the living room!"

"Ngh!" Lizzie groaned. "Why are they here? Why are _you_ here? I thought this was my house not your flat."

"Good morning to you too," George muttered as he grabbed hold of his nephew and hauled him back, "aren't you as charming as ever?"

"Ignore her, George," Ellen said as she handed Lizzie a cup of coffee, ah bliss, "she had far too much wine last night."

Lizzie would have retorted something incredibly witty after she had another sip of coffee, but just as she opened her mouth, Anne called out in panic.

"Has anyone seen my hairbrush?!"

The reply was an ominous giggle from somewhere around George's waist where his nephew stood. "George," Lizzie growled warningly.

"I know, I know," George groaned as he glared down at his nephew, "we'll be gone soon, Emma is just-"

"Presents!" Emma trilled.

Lizzie inwardly groaned, and not just because Emma's trill felt like a drill in her temple, but because Emma's presents always, _always_, made her feel like a crap friend. In their First Year, they had all agreed on a Secret Santa, and while everyone else had stuck to the rules including the five pound budget, Emma had gone out and brought everyone ridiculously expensive presents with the defence that she could not leave the others out. So while Lizzie knew Emma would love her Body Shop gift box it would never compare to whatever magnificent gift Emma had brought her.

Cathy, Anne, and Fanny appeared behind Emma and Lizzie reluctantly moved aside so they could all come down the stairs. "Here's Ellen's," Emma passed a sparkly red wrapped present to a grateful redhead, "Anne's," Anne accepted her equally sparkly red wrapped present with equal gratefulness, "Cathy's," Cathy thanked Emma profusely but was dismissed with a wave of a hand, "Lizzie's," Lizzie grunted her thanks wondering when they would all shut up and leave her in peace, "And last but not least, Fanny's," Emma held out a small square box wrapped in the same wrapping paper as the others to Fanny.

"Emma," Fanny said wearily, "I thought we agreed, no more-"

"It's just a little something," Emma interrupted.

"Just a little something or your little something that is hideously expensive?" Lizzie asked shrewdly.

Emma flushed, "just a little something," she repeated.

_Just a little something my arse_, Lizzie thought with an eye roll. She sat herself down on the stairs as Fanny protested, Emma argued, the others handed out their own gifts, and Harold asked why they weren't waiting for Father Christmas, _kids_, Lizzie snorted to herself. She hadn't believed in Father Christmas since she was six years old and had caught he father swearing to himself as he tripped over the Twins' toys while trying to put the presents under the tree.

"Because they are all on the naughty list," George grinned.

"Oh," Harold said, eyes wide, "like John will be for stealing that hairbrush."

"Why on earth did he take my hairbrush?!" Anne cried out.

"Sword fight, he was winning," Harold grumbled.

After rescuing Anne's hairbrush, bundling their brats - err Lizzie means darling nephews – into the car, and saying goodbye one last time (Lizzie's ribs ached from the bone crushing hug Emma had given her), Emma and George finally left.

"Don't you two have a train to catch in fifteen minutes?" Ellen asked alarmed when she realised Anne and Lizzie were still in the house which was a good twenty five minute walk from the train station – if they were quick that is.

"Yeah but Tom said he'll drop us off," Lizzie shrugged.

"And where is he?"

"So eager to get rid of us, Ellen? I'm hurt."

"I'm sure you'll live."

"Tom's coming down the street now," Fanny paled.

Lizzie opened her mouth to ask exactly why Fanny looked so ill. Moments before Fanny had been flushed with embarrassment and pleasure when Emma had presented her present to her and now she was a deathly white tinged with green. If Lizzie didn't know better she would have guessed Fanny had just caught a terrible virus in the last five minutes. However Lizzie did know better and all it took was her to peer down the street and within minutes she paled herself.

Tom had been a terrible driver in September and one would think in the last three months he would have improved his skills...

...One would be wrong. If anything he was worse as he skidded to a halt, almost crashing into the neighbour's car.

From the corner of her eye Lizzie could see Anne turn as pale as Fanny, and knew full well that she had paled as well, "wanna risk running for it instead?" she suggested.

"Don't tempt me."

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Anne was exhausted.

After barely making it to the train station in time (and with her life), Anne had endured a long journey that included three trains, and a bus, only to arrive long after it was dark. She was cold, tired, and weary to what sort of welcome she might expect. The last time she had seen her father they had an argument, well she argued, he ignored her, and the last time she had seen Elizabeth...well she can't remember, Elizabeth spent her whole summer out with friends or some sort of new boy that the most she had seen was a bundle of curls on a pillow. So she didn't expect a warm welcoming but she hoped for something better than indifference.

Once through the front door, she called out, "Dad, Elizabeth, I'm home," as she took her coat off. "Hello? Dad?"

A strange woman bustled out of the living room. She was in her early thirties the most and had a sort of motherly air to her – a strict, stern, matronly mother. She glared at Anne. "Who are you?" she demanded to know.

"I'm Anne..." Anne mumbled uncertainly, "who...who are you? Where's my Dad?"

"I beg your pardon? Anne who?" the woman snarled. "What are you doing in my house? How did you get inside my house?"

"I live here...I have a key," Anne said helplessly as she held up her key, "I...are you Dad's new girlfriend? I'm Anne...Anne Elliot...I...I..."

The woman's face softened a touch at the sound of Anne's surname, perhaps she was her father's new girlfriend? But before she said something to Anne another voice from the stairs called out. A voice that Anne would never have thought to hear in her home ever again.

"Sophie, what's wrong?" Fred Wentworth called out calmly from the top of the stairs, "I thought I heard shouting."

Anne was finding it difficult to breath. Fred Wentworth was in her house. Her ex that her father never approved off was in her house...with his sister. There was something terribly wrong about this entire scenario.

"One of the Elliot sisters is here," Sophie called back, "I don't think she knew about the move."

"M-move?" Anne squeaked out.

"Yes," Sophie said gently, "to Bath. We're renting here."

"B-B-Bath?"

"Anne?" Fred questioned as he took several steps down. "Is that you? Anne Elliot?"

Oh god. Anne's eyes were fixed in horror on Fred, he was as gorgeous as ever, calm, cool, and collected as ever...but...but he was missing his arm. The arm that had held her when she needed him, the hand that pushed back her curls and tucked them behind her ear, the fingers that caressed her cheek, it was all gone.

"Anne?"

Fred Wentworth, missing an arm, was standing there on the bottom of her stairs with his sister close by. Fred Wentworth and his sister were living in her house. Fred Wentworth was living in her house because her father and sister had moved to Bath. They went to Bath without telling her. She had been abandoned by her own family.

Her legs were so numb that they suddenly gave out beneath her.

"Anne!"

She had been forgotten again. Forgotten in the worst way possible. It really shouldn't have surprised her but then Austen House had spoiled her...how could her family just _forget_ her like that?

**Author's Note: to the Guest Reviewer I addressed in the previous chapter, honestly don't panic, since it was an honest mistake and you have apologised there is need to worry. Like I had said before it had only caused minor confusion and no one had been hurt. Thank you for the lovely review as always. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. **


	17. Chapter 16: A Frosty Christmas

_...so in the end we made a list of rules to keep law and order in Austen House. I had to fight the urge to add 'if there is ever an emergency contact someone from Austen House' or 'if you need to talk to someone call one of the members of Austen House...preferably Emma'. It shouldn't have to be a rule for a friend to come to a friend when they need someone, it should be an instinct, and I would rather my friends come to me because they want to and need to rather than a silly rule I've enforced on them. – Top Secret: GEORGE KNIGHTLY IF YOU READ THIS I __**WILL**__ CASTRATE YOU, By Emma Woodhouse. _

George grinned over his mug of tea.

On the armchair opposite him sat Emma curled up beneath a blanket as she tried to pay attention to her father as he complained about the things children watch beside her. Mr Woodhouse didn't really approve of the quality of children films these days – he thought they were far too violent. The children all ignored him; of course, as they watched transfixed as Shrek knocked some soldiers out while their parents were enjoying a quiet moment to themselves.

It was quite frankly the perfect beginning to the Christmas holidays and George was anticipating for every evening for the next week to be just like this.

It was just as the children's favourite character (Donkey) was in the middle of wooing his future wife when Emma's phone blared alive.

"Aunt Emma!" the children whined.

"Sorry, sorry," Emma stood up and stepped round the children towards the door, "ignore me and enjoy your lovely film!" she called back.

"Shh!"

George tried not to laugh at the indignant expressions on his nephews and nieces faces, each and every single one of them had Emma's frustrated and haughty indignant look, and it was highly amusing to look on at them. Soon their expressions melted into one of joy and content as they turned their attention back to the TV, and George tried to enjoy the movie he had watched far too many times to count but found his mind drifting to things he really shouldn't think about.

Things like a certain kiss weeks before, mistletoe, and the influence of eggnog...things he really, really, _really_ shouldn't think about.

The door opened and Emma stepped in with a horrified expression and her coat, "we have to go," she said directly to George.

"Shh!"

Their nephews and nieces were ignored. "Go?" George and Mr Woodhouse questioned.

"Dear lord, Emma," Mr Woodhouse continued, "you only just arrived home from that ghastly city and you want to go back?"

"Not to London," Emma said, "to Anne. She just phoned. Her family have left without telling her, her older sister cannot have visitors right now, and she is alone with near strangers with nowhere to go. We have to get her and bring her back here."

"Anne lives in Lancashire!" George protested. "We'll be up all night!"

"We'll stay at a Travel Lodge or something," Emma said, "but I can't leave her on her own any longer than necessary. She was _abandoned _George, don't make me abandon her again."

Mr Woodhouse released the weary sigh that George wanted to do. They both knew far too well to what extent Emma would go for her friends, it was both a wonderful and dangerous thing. If George didn't drive Emma now she would either nag someone to do it for her or hitchhike, neither were good options. Also he didn't like the idea of Anne left alone at Christmas with near strangers unlike Ellen who could take care of herself, or Lizzie who could defend herself, or even Cathy who had her bubbly personality to win people over, Anne was far too shy and quiet to help herself in such a situation. She could easily end up out in the cold for hours on end or worse in a terrible situation straight out of a thriller or horror movie.

"You should wrap up warmly," Mr Woodhouse instructed them, "I don't trust that heater in your car, George, it isn't reliable, and you must take clean towels. I've seen those television programmes about hotels; they're not hygienic at all! Drive safely, I heard it might snow, so perhaps you should put your winter tires on...oh dear, is it really necessary to go out at this time of night?"

Its times like this that George thought he should have taken up his parents' offer to spend Christmas in Spain.

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Fred did not know what was more unbelievable, the fact that he survived the ambush only to end up living in the old Elliot house, or the fact that he survived the ambush only to end up living in the old Elliot house which Anne is now sitting in unaware that her family had moved, either sounded utterly ridiculous.

He turned to look at Anne, who was too busy staring at her cold cup of tea to notice, and half wished they met in different circumstances, or not met at all. He still loved her – more fool him – and the sight of her still made his heart beat a little faster but he didn't want her to see him as he was now. He was a broken man, a damaged body haunted by nightmares, and he would rather have her fondly think of him as a foolish sixteen year old than know him as this broken twenty one year old.

He would claim that he couldn't believe Mr Elliot did this to his daughter but that would quite frankly be a lie. There were multiple times he could remember where Anne was left waiting in the cold for her father to pick her up only for him to have forgotten her completely. It was how Fred managed to woo her; he had walked her home each and every time she had been abandoned.

"The poor lamb," his sister murmured. He nodded sharply unable to say anything as Anne turned her attention to her mobile phone and the smallest ghost of a smile formed her lips on whatever she saw on her screen. "To be forgotten like that by her own family," Sophie continued without any encouragement, "and on Christmas of all things! I cannot imagine what it would be like to come home, expecting a warm welcome, dinner, and the comfort of your own bed, only to find it all gone without you being told a single thing," she shuddered, "her parents should be arrested for child neglect."

"She's not a child," he murmured. "She is twenty one and capable of taking care of herself."

"She looks like a slip of a girl," his sister said, "if I was to pass her on the street I would have placed her at fifteen the most. And I highly doubt she is capable of taking care of herself seeing as she barely touched her food earlier, and she needs feeding up, that one, she looks far too sickly, I have no doubt she'd ignore plague symptoms in order to not bring attention to herself."

Ah, Sophie barely met Anne and already she knew her well. Anne hated bringing attention on herself, she despised having to be a 'burden' on someone, and she loathed admitting when she was ill. It was the only time she had a backbone made of steel, and his only regret about that is that she couldn't apply that iron will in other aspects of her life.

"Do you think I should make a bed for her?" Sophie intruded on his thoughts again. "I mean, it doesn't look like anyone is coming for her, and we can't have her hunting for a hotel at this time of night, she might end up mugged or worse! What do you think, Fred? Fred? Fredrick!"

"What?" Fred jumped slightly, he had been far too distracted by Anne than he would like to admit, _you're supposed to be over her_, he told himself silently (who was he kidding?), "Erm, I'm not sure Sophie, she said someone was going to pick her up."

"Not family," Sophie muttered, "I heard her on the phone with her sister."

Fred grimaced; he had never liked Mary Elliot that much but now his opinion of her hit a new all time low. How on earth could any older sister happily allow their younger sibling suffer just because they, and his quotes, 'cannot cope with company right now'. Perhaps he was just used to the suffocating levels of overprotection and care Sophie provided him but it didn't settle right with him that Mary cared more for her migraines and chronic fictional illnesses over her little sister's well being. After that awful phone call Anne had sat there listlessly staring at her phone for twenty minute. He had literally been on the verge of offering his bed to her and some sort of awkward attempt to comfort her when she picked her phone up again and phoned someone up.

He had no idea who it was but all Anne had to say was 'it's me, my father moved without telling me, I'm with some people I don't know very well, could you please pick me up?' and suddenly she had someone on the way before she could hang up.

He didn't know what unsettled him the most about that, the fact that she had called him someone she didn't know very well, or the fact there was someone out there who obviously cared for Anne just as much as he did. Should he be jealous? He really shouldn't since they hadn't been together in years...even though she had broken it off he would have liked it if she had been a little unable to get over him...selfish but he always was a little.

Overall Fred was far too unsettled, confused, angry, disbelieving, and exhausted for his own comfort and he would quite like to shoot something. Sophie would never forgive him though if he ruined the house or garden...damn, why did he agree to live with his sister again?

There was a knock on the door, and before his sister could say something, or Anne could move, he stood up and rushed to the door. Anything that can save him from his own thoughts and sister's prattle would be welcomed warmly. He was bewildered at the sight of a unknown blonde girl and what he hoped was her rather good looking boyfriend (and not Anne's), for a brief moment he had no idea why they were there since he knew neither of them, and he couldn't work out for the life of him why the blonde glared at him so viscously.

"Where's Anne?" the blonde demanded to know.

"_Emma_," the bloke scolded her, "your parents taught you better manners than that."

"Sorry," Emma muttered, "Hello," she said in a much more civil tone, "we're here for Anne, is she still here?"

"Yes," Fred blinked, "do come in."

They did so and when they entered the living room, Fred didn't have time to introduce the blonde to his sister, or ask if they wanted tea or coffee, or even offer to take their coats, before Anne had pushed past him and thrown herself into the blonde's arms.

"It's okay," Emma said soothingly, "I'm here; everything is going to be okay. I'm going to take you home now."

"Back to Austen House?" Anne asked quietly, her voice muffled by Emma's shoulder.

"No," Emma said firmly, "back to my home. You're spending Christmas with me, and then we'll go back to Austen House together."

"But-"

"No buts," Emma interrupted.

"Would you like to stay the night?" Sophie asked hesitatingly, Fred knew she didn't really want a group of strangers in her house but she was too good natured to let them go out in the cold after such an exhausting journey already. "We have plenty of room."

"Thank you," the bloke said good naturedly, "but we already have a room at the Premier Inn, and we really don't want to impose ourselves on you any further. Thank you for taking care of Anne until we can get here."

"It was the least we could do," Sophie said.

Anne pulled away from Emma and smiled awkwardly at Sophie as she murmured her goodbye. The bloke picked up her bags and suitcase with ease while Emma kept her worried eyes on Anne. Fred couldn't blame her, once he knew what was happening around him (a subconscious act from his military training); he only had eyes for Anne as well.

Anne looked hesitant for a moment and then suddenly she grasped his hand – he was pretty certain she went in for handshake and ended up clasping it instead. He didn't mind, he revelled in the softness from her hand while he worried about the coldness, was she still chilly from earlier this evening?

"T-thank you," she stumbled on her words slightly, "for everything."

"You're welcome," he said.

He took in her dark eyes that used to sparkle, her flushed cheeks from the embarrassment, and her sweet lips that wore a strained version of her usual shy smile, and then he let her go...for what was hopefully for the last time in his life.

Long after the front door had shut behind Anne Elliot both of his hands – his real one and his phantom one – tingled at the memory of holding her lovely small hands into his.

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It had been silent for most of the trip to the Premier Inn and silent while they checked in and silent still when they entered their room. Anne didn't know what to say, she was embarrassed, upset, angry, and hurt, and she didn't know how to put it into words or even if she could managed to speak without crying. Emma didn't push her (though that was probably because George told her not to), and George was exhausted from all the driving which caused Anne to add guilty to her growing list of mixed emotions.

Eventually George broke the silence, "I'll go change in the bathroom, and I think I'll shower as well," he said.

"Father will be furious with you for using the hotel towels," Emma teased him; "he doesn't think hotels wash them properly."

"Well I can just stink out the car if you'd prefer," George grinned.

"Go," Emma said immediately as she pulled a disgusted face, "before I drown you in deodorant."

"Is that even possible?"

Emma had waited until the door was shut firmly before she quickly changed for bed. Anne followed suit after hunting through her suitcase though the moment she heard the shower running she couldn't help but let out a sob.

"Hey."

Anne was horrified when she realised she was shaking. She was shaking so bad that she couldn't keep hold of her clothes and the soft cotton slipped through her fingers and back into the suitcase.

Another traitorous sob left her.

"Hey," Emma repeated softly, "hey, it's all right, I'm here now." Warm arms engulfed Anne as she was pulled to Emma's bosom and held there. It felt safe, and loving, and nice, and what's worse it felt like _home._ She was nowhere near a home and yet she felt more at home in this clinical hotel room in Emma's arms than she had done in years. "It's okay to cry," Emma murmured, "I'm here now, let it all out."

Anne continued to weep and babble incoherently into Emma, she could not for the life of her remember what she said then, but whatever it was it had Emma hold her tightly, and rub soothing circles on her back until Anne, exhausted from everything – the journey, the horror, the grief, the anger, and the hurt of seeing Fred again and knowing she had been abandoned by her own flesh and blood, fell asleep.

When Anne woke in the middle of the night, Emma asleep beside her and George in the bed opposite, she wept again quietly into her pillow as she thought about Fred and his missing arm.

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After four days of being home Cathy was exhausted.

Once the excitement of being home had died down, Cathy had become part of the household again, and that meant she was a slave again to her parents' whims. Chores, errands, and babysitting duty filled up her time. Since it was Christmas it meant her father was busier than ever and that meant Cathy had to help.

And let her tell you something, that choir of angels? Not so angelic whenever Cathy is put in charge.

Rehearsals for the Christmas celebration in her father's church only just ended. The show was tomorrow, and then Cathy doesn't have to break up another fight between the angels or tell the kid who was playing Joseph to stop touching the holy water, and chase after the kid who was playing the donkey and had a perchance of running off.

On the verge of being dead, Cathy threw herself into the very uncomfortable bench, and closed her eyes praying to God that he would be merciful and strike her down now before she ends up throttling a kid or two.

"All right, Cath?"

"James!"

Her older brother sat there by her feet with an easy grin, and best of all, without his slimy jerk of a best friend hovering around. "The local kids driving you round the bend?"

"I swear we weren't that bad when we were their age," Cathy groused.

"According to Mum we were worse," James smirked, "I bet you can't wait to go home back to your boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"Oh don't play coy with me Cathy," James nudged her leg, "I heard all about it from John. You've been together for how long now, a month?"

"What?"

"He told me all about you begging him to kiss you at the party, you little harlot," James teased, "you better be with him after that or I'll have to live with the shame of my little sister being a tease. He forgives you for ruining his shoes, by the way."

Cathy spluttered her indignation. _Little harlot_? Begging for the likes of John Thorpe to kiss her? Begging for a kiss? Forgives her running his shoes? Each word made of what her brother had said infuriated her, shouldn't he as her big brother tell that sleazy git to stay away from her? Before she could verbalise this fury – rather than just splutter and stutter as she was now – her mother called away her brother.

"Be back in a bit," James grinned, "Then you can tell me about Izzy."

As her brother rushed down the aisle Cathy picked up her bag and tried to suffocate herself with it. Once her face was smothered by the rough black material she let out a frustrated scream against it.

She wandered if her parents would forgive her if she killed James?

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"Lizzie!"

"Lottie!"

Lizzie threw herself into her best friend's arms, her suitcase abandoned, before she pulled back and they did their secret handshake with the spit and chant included much to her unimpressed cousin. Colin never thought their secret handshake was mature and lord knows Colin has never changed in the last twenty or so years.

"Colin," Lizzie nodded to him.

"Cousin Elizabeth," Colin replied.

They exchanged kisses on the cheek and a quick embrace and then refused to touch one another ever again until it was time to say goodbye. Like they always have done. Colin then very pompously took Lizzie's suitcase and carried it inside as he boasted about his new house. It was very decent, a small four bedroom cottage on the edge of an estate – Colin was the caretaker of it, youngest ever as he always liked to brag about.

Personally Lizzie didn't see what was so great about a career where you never moved up the ladder in. At least in her chosen path she has a Masters, PhD, and many, many years as a professor before she may possibly be offered some sort of head of department position to look forwards to. Colin would just stay in Kent till he dies or the family he works for lets him go, neither were an appealing option.

God what did her best friend see in her cousin?

"The Lady Katrina has very kindly invited us to the big house for dinner," Colin carried on pompously after he showed Elizabeth the en-suit in her bedroom, "she is very eager to meet you, Cousin, after all she takes great care to know everything about her employees."

"Sounds thrilling," Lizzie said dryly.

"I would recommend you change into something far more appropriate."

"What's wrong with the jumper Mum made me?" Lizzie demanded to know.

As promised they had celebrated Christmas a few days early this year and as always their mother bestowed handmade jumpers on all of them. Lizzie's dark burgundy with a reindeer on the front was rather fetching in Lizzie's opinion and was far too good for the likes of this Lady Katrina if she wanted Lizzie to dress up like some sort of character from Downton Abbey.

"Nothing!" Colin quickly backtracked. "The jumpers your mother makes are the finest in all of England, I cannot wait to see what mine looks like, I merely meant-"

"My Mum isn't here Colin," Lizzie interrupted with an eye roll, "you don't have to suck up. I'll go change if that's what will make you happy."

"Please," Colin said tiredly, "and be on your best behaviour tonight, I am begging you Cousin Elizabeth."

"When am I not?" Lizzie asked innocently.

Words cannot describe the expression on Colin's face but boy did she wish that she had taken a photo of it.

As she changed into a skirt and blouse (which is surely what Colin had meant by appropriate unless he had meant something with a corset and farthingale then he could bugger off) Lizzie's thoughts went back to her early Christmas celebration with her family. It had been marred terribly by a long text from Emma explaining Anne's situation and the fact that there had been nothing Lizzie could have done made her feel useless. More than useless, pathetically so. She had brooded over this for the last few days until her father had confronted her, apparently it was difficult enough to deal with Jane's depression, Mary's dramatics, and Lydia's odd behaviour, and therefore Lizzie had to snap out of her sulking before her mother changes her mind about the cruise.

Lizzie did so but not without taking her father's favourite book to read and forgetting to give it back in time for him to enjoy over the cruise. That'll teach him to tell her how to feel. Though he did actually have a point, Jane's depression (and hopefulness to encounter Charlie in London) was bordering onto ridiculousness and Lydia's odd behaviour was certainly...well odd. She had been too quiet for it to not be suspicious, and she was always texting or emailing someone. To make it more worrying Kitty had no clue what was going on, the Twins had never kept secrets from one another before.

"Cousin Elizabeth! Hurry up or we'll be late, and we cannot be late!"

Lizzie sighed and dismissed her thoughts on Anne and her sisters in favour of appeasing her whiney cousin.

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"There you are!"

Fanny almost jumped out of her skin when Edmund suddenly shouted at her. She had slinked away from the family when it became apparent her presence was not required or wanted and did not think anyone would seek her out for another hour or so.

She smiled at the thought of Edmund noticing that she was missing and sought her out. "Here I am," she said, "I'm making some tea, would you like some?"

"Yeah, thanks," Edmund smiled, _it was a beautiful smile_, she thought fondly, "could you make everyone a cuppa? That's what I came in the kitchen for; Molly is gasping for a drink."

If Fanny's smile wavered Edmund didn't notice or care but then that had been the very definition of their relationship for the last few months. Edmund didn't notice her emails or he didn't care about her worry. All he could think about is Molly Crawford. Molly who has become Mariah and Julia's best friend in the last couple months and is to be Mariah's bridesmaid in the spring while Fanny had barely been invited. Molly who looks at Fanny as if she was an insect to be crushed under her high heeled shoe. Molly who makes sly jabs about how homely and plain Fanny looked and what's worse Molly who makes Edmund _laugh_ at these jabs.

Whatever small chance Fanny ever had with Edmund had died a very painful and quick death when Molly Crawford walked into their lives.

"I'll make a pot," Fanny said with a fake smile, "could you get the milk out for me, please?"

"Sure."

As Fanny made the tea for everyone with Edmund's assistance they fell into a silence. It wasn't the companionable silence between two friends who didn't need to speak to fill up the silence though. It was that terrible, awkward, and rather monstrous silence where Fanny had to bite her lip to prevent the urge to fill it. When had she lost the companionship she had always treasured with Edmund? She assumed it was sometime when Molly entered his life and he stopped replying to her emails.

He knew everything about her life (if he had actually read the emails) till now and she knew absolutely nothing but that Molly Crawford had been a part of it.

"Well...erm, I better take this in then," Edmund said, "are you coming back too? The girls are talking dresses and I'm sure you'll want an input..."

Did he not notice the lack of invitation for the event? Once again Fanny was horribly reminded how he barely paid attention to her. "No thank you," she said quietly, "I have some work I should finish before Christmas. Lessons don't plan themselves, you know." he chuckled at that and she tried her best to smile. "Then I'll have an early night. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Of course."

She waited a few moments until she was certain that Edmund was back in the living room before she left the kitchen. As she passed the doorway to the living room she heard laughter that, to her, had a fringe of cruelty to it. As she peered in she caught Molly's eye and the beautiful tanned woman stretched her lipstick covered lips into a smirk, she ran off up the stairs, and she could hear cruel laughter chasing after her like those school bullies long ago.

_Please God_, she prayed desperately, _give me strength_.

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Lizzie had to hand it to Colin, the estate was beautiful, and the Lady Katrina was certainly grand. Here she stood in the biggest house _ever_, that wasn't a National Trust building, in front of a stern woman with an air of sophistication that could make even Emma want to curl up in inferiority. It was enough to make Lizzie wonder if she was on some sort of drug trip or just dreaming.

"Lady Katrina," Colin bowed, "it is an honour as always to be invited into your home. May I present my other half Charlotte, and my dear cousin, Elizabeth Bennett?"

"Yes, yes," Lady Katrina said impatiently as Lottie curtsied to her, "So you are Elizabeth Bennett then?" she directed to Lizzie with a scowl. Lizzie had refused to curtsey to someone just because they had 'Lady' before her name and Colin worked for them. She had always been the Socialist in the family while poor Colin had wholeheartedly thrown his lot into the more conservative sort.

"Obviously," Lizzie said dryly.

"Cousin Elizabeth!" Colin hissed.

"Young Colin has told me a great deal about you, Miss Bennett," Lady Katrina said dismissing Lizzie's rudeness, "I do pity your mother having to raise five daughters though I am appalled at her inability to teach you your manners."

"It's really none of your business," Lizzie said bluntly, "and I have you know my mother taught me excellent manners for a normal person without a title."

There was a chuckle behind her as Colin despaired in front of her. Lizzie turned (because quite frankly Colin was painfully embarrassing to watch) to see a tall, stocky, blonde young man – no more than a few years older than her – and two young girls standing either side of him, one dark haired with large glasses, and one blonde with a big smile.

"She has you there, Aunt," the young man said with an easy grin.

The so called esteemed Lady Katrina merely glared at her nephew. "Miss Bennett, may I introduce you to my nephew Richard Fitzwilliam, my daughter The Honourable Annette, and my niece Georgiana Fitzwilliam."

"Georgie," the blonde corrected her aunt.

"I thought it was Gigi," Richard grinned.

Georgiana, or Georgie, or whatever she called herself elbowed her brother. "Georgiana!" the Lady Katrina shrieked. "We do not resort to violence in this household, apologise to your cousin." Okay Lizzie stands corrected; the blonde had elbowed her cousin, not her brother.

After the blonde had mumbled an apology to her cousin, Lizzie offered the easy going young man her hand, "Lizzie Bennett," she introduced herself.

"Really?" the young man said amused as she shook her hand, "Emma Woodhouse's Lizzie?" Lizzie nodded and was about to ask him how exactly he knew Emma when he slyly added, "_Darcy's Elizabeth_?"

"I'm not that prick's anything!"

The Lady Katrina inhaled sharply at the rudeness, Colin looked like he was about to faint, Georgie gasped, Richard laughed, Annette blinked owlishly, and Lottie just shot Lizzie an exasperated look as she held Colin up straight so he wouldn't keel over. "My," a dry but highly amused voice said from behind Lizzie, "and a Merry Christmas to _you_ too, Elizabeth."

Lizzie slowly turned as her stomach sank into dread. It would just be her luck that Darcy Fitzwilliam heard her call him a prick. Her luck proved, as always, to be terrible as it was indeed Darcy standing there behind her with his usual smirk firmly in place, and his blue eyes dancing in mirth and delight.

Did the fucking Gods up there _hate_ her or something?


	18. Chapter 17: How NOT to Confess Your Love

"_I might as well enquire," replied she, "why with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose t tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I __**was**__ uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?" – Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen_.

On Christmas day Fanny had opened her presents from her housemates in her bedroom. She had learnt from previous experience that if she opened them in front of her god family it would cause an unwanted interrogation about each and every one of her friends and why would they want to give a present to her. _Is it that unbelievable that someone wants to give me something out of love rather than duty? _The bitter thought crossed her mind as she stared down the six wrapped presents.

She shook her head; today was not a day for bitter thoughts.

Instead she took her time unwrapping each and every one of her presents from her friends. Most of them had been cheap and cheerful like she had expected them to be. Cathy had given her a hot chocolate mug set, two different bath sets from Anne and Lizzie, and Ellen had gotten her the latest novel by her favourite author, they were all very much appreciated but sadly paled in comparison to the present Emma had given her (the real tragedy was it would probably take thirty years worth of presents before Fanny could look Emma in the eye after the present she had given her fellow blonde). The two matching pearls shined under her bedroom light and looked so magnificent that Fanny was certain she could never wear them.

What on earth prompted Emma to buy her pearl earrings?

It was far too good for the likes of Fanny. She didn't deserve expensive jewellery especially from a friend. It felt like Fanny was taking advantage of Emma's good nature, first the laptop, then a home in London, and now this. In return Fanny has done absolutely nothing for Emma, she hasn't been much of a help, or much company, or given her anything precious in return at all. She felt very ashamed all of a sudden.

There was a bang on her bedroom door and hastily Fanny pulled one of her fleece blankets over the presents. "Come in," she called out.

Julia opened the door and glowered at her. "We're opening presents downstairs," she said flatly, "Dad says we can't open anything until you're there...hey what's that?" she nodded to the lump on Fanny's bed.

"Nothing!" Fanny said quickly.

Julia narrowed her eyes but shrugged. "Whatever," she mumbled, "hurry up _Fanny._" She stressed Fanny's name in her childhood tone of cruelty.

Fanny shrugged it off and smiled as she made her way downstairs. She knew exactly why Julia was in a foul mood and it was the same reason why Mariah would be and (unfortunately) the same reason why Edmund will be brooding. It was Christmas day and her godfather had decreed that was family only, no other guests allowed.

For one whole day there will be no Molly Crawford.

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Lizzie decided to explore the estate on Boxing Day. It had been that or endure Colin glowering and scolding her for the entirety of the day. He had not forgiven her for her rudeness to his Lady Katrina and her 'honourable and most noble' nephew Darcy. It had made Christmas Day the worst one ever as Colin sulked throughout dinner and threw icy looks at her during the day while Lottie attempted to build a bridge between the two of them and get them back on friendly terms.

It was needless to say that Lottie was beginning to lose patience with both Bennetts no matter how much she loved them both.

So for Lottie's sake, her own sanity, and to avoid Colin, Lizzie decided to risk bumping into Darcy by exploring the estate.

As she wandered through the trees she had to admit that Colin did a really good job especially when one considers that he is the only servant for the grounds. Lizzie doubted the personal cook, the two maids, and the chauffer did any of the gardening and mending.

"Lizzie!"

Lizzie looked up and cringed slightly as Richard Fitzwilliam was waving manically at her. She was still rather embarrassed about her little explosion about Darcy...and the fact that Darcy had been behind her the entire time. Still she had no regrets at all about sniping at Lady Katrina much to Colin's dismay.

With a brave face and fake smile, Lizzie waved back at the more cheerful Fitzwilliam. Within in moments he was by her side and gave her a warm one armed hug that made her feel a little uncomfortable after all she barely knew this guy.

"Good Christmas?" he asked oblivious to her discomfort.

"Not really," Lizzie said, "Colin hasn't forgiven me for the other night."

"Why? It was awesome!" Richard grinned. "Your face when you realised Darcy was behind you."

"Shut up!" Lizzie flushed.

"I didn't realise that prick was a term of endearment."

"It isn't," Lizzie muttered, "he's just a prick."

Richard's grin widened. "He does have his prick-ish moments," he agreed, "but he isn't a bad guy really, and he's a very good friend." Lizzie had to agree with the last one, if he wasn't a good friend Emma and George wouldn't be his friends. Then again Emma always did seem to be the one putting all the effort in maintaining the friendship and George was seen more often with the girls than Darcy...Lizzie quickly snapped out of her thoughts as Richard started to talking again. "Like with Charlie, have you met Charlie Bingley? He's a great guy," _yeah who liked to break my sister's heart_, Lizzie thought snidely as she nodded, "Well," Richard continued, "Charlie was seeing this girl over the summer that wasn't good for him, and Darcy helped him out of the relationship."

Lizzie clenched her hand into a fight. "_Why_ wasn't she good enough for him?" she demanded to know. How dare Charlie and Darcy decide that Jane – sweet, kind, and wonderful Jane – was not good enough.

"Oh a few things, she was a waitress for one-"

"Are we suddenly back in the nineteenth century when that stuff mattered?" Lizzie interrupted Richard.

"Well," Richard said a little uncomfortably, he knew somehow he hit a nerve, "it was more of a case of lack of affection. Charlie didn't notice because he was so besotted but she held out showing anything beyond a smile. He always had to initiate things with her and she only let him kiss her after he had taken her somewhere. Her being a waitress coupled with her lack of affection led to the conclusion that she's a gold-digger. She's also from this very small town in the middle of nowhere and obviously saw Charlie has her ticket to somewhere better. Then of course there's the mother-"

"_What's wrong with the mother?!"_

Before Richard could answer a look of relief crossed his face when he saw something behind him. Lizzie whirled round and felt her fury bubble in the pity of her stomach at the sight of Darcy making his way towards her. Her other hand also balled itself into a fist as she decided the moment that smug git reached her she would punch his lights out, no, she would have a few words with him and _then_ punch his lights out.

"Elizabeth," Darcy nodded in greeting to her, "could I have a word with you?" his blue eyes landed on his cousin's face and narrowed slightly. "Alone?"

"Oh you can have a word or two, all right."

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Anne was curled up in one of the most comfortable arm chairs in the universe while attempting to do her essay.

Emma and George had taken their nieces and nephews out to visit Taylor. Any other day Anne would have joined them since she had missed Taylor's company in the last few months, as much as she enjoyed Cathy's enthusiastic and excitable presence it was not the same, but she had a feeling that Taylor would not be up to hosting another person – not with the monsters running around – and she really needed to get this assignment out of the way. It was difficult to focus on essays when there was five children screaming, Emma arguing with one of the Knightly brothers, and Mr Woodhouse bemoaning how cold it was. With most of them gone, Anne really needed to take advantage of the situation and do her work.

"Are you warm enough?"

Anne almost jumped out of her skin as Mr Woodhouse appeared out of nowhere. The man was light on his feet and has made many people in the house jump when he suddenly inquires them on their health.

"Yes," Anne gasped clutching her laptop tightly. It had almost fallen to the floor when Mr Woodhouse surprised her. "I'm more than warm enough."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

There was a moment of silence before Mr Woodhouse suddenly sat down in the chair opposite Anne's. "May I have a word with you?"

"Of course," Anne said nervously.

He honestly didn't have to ask her that. He had done so much for her already and she had only been staying with them for a few days and had been a burden on him to boot. She had expected nothing but an awkward air of politeness on Christmas when she had intruded on his time with his own family but instead he had treated her as if she had been part of the family the entire time. He had brought her several presents (all were equipment in order to keep her warm, jumpers, gloves, hot water bottle, and the like) and included her in any conversation at the dinner table. Though admittedly it was only to have someone on his side in the debate whether or not the seaside was bad for one's health.

"Emma has spoken of you and the other girls so often that I feel that I know you already," Mr Woodhouse said, "I know all about your aunt." Anne tried not to grimace at that. Mr Woodhouse owned the company that happened to be her aunt's rival. There had been some severe competition between the two publishing companies. "I know about your dream to write." She looked down at her laptop unable to say anything. It didn't matter though; Mr Woodhouse continued to speak, "I know that you are considered one of the more sensible members of Austen House...when Emma graduates she will take a position in my own company. She doesn't have to but she insists on it...she will not take the highest position though arguably it is her right," perhaps in the nineteenth century, but today no one would respect someone who got the top job simply because it had been their father's, "she will have a good one though and work her way up to the top...Emma is...well a little naive at times, a little too excitable, and not entirely practical most of the time."

Anne looked up at Mr Woodhouse questioningly, she was beginning to wander what exactly he was getting at here.

"It is my own fault," Mr Woodhouse said sadly, "my selfish desire to stay where it is safe has meant that Emma has not interacted with enough people. Her only friends when she was a child were either a great deal older than her or younger than her. She had never had a friend her own age...nor a friend that she was close to like she is with you girls. When she enters the company...well she will need a friend...would you be that friend, Anne?"

"Mr Woodhouse..." Anne's eyes were wide with surprise and horror, "are you asking me what I think you are asking me?"

Mr Woodhouse looked at her directly in the eye, and there in those bright blue eyes that were so much like Emma's, was a mischievous glint that Anne had only ever seen in Emma' eyes. "What do you think?" he asked.

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Fanny just reached the landing when she saw Julia leave her bedroom with the small black box. "What do you think you are doing?" she asked quietly. "Those are my earrings."

Julia sneered at her. "I doubt it," she said, "they're far too good for you."

Fanny flushed at the obvious truth. She didn't need reminding that Emma had spent far too much money than Fanny was actually worth. "They're still mine, regardless," she insisted firmly. She rarely used her teacher voice when she was at home. She would never dare so against her elders and Mariah and Julia were more than likely to laugh at her, so she never tried it on them, but this case needed her to be firm. She couldn't allow Julia to steal Emma's present to her, it wouldn't be fair on Emma who had spent so much money on it. "Now give them back."

"Make me," Julia said childishly.

Fanny marched towards Julia and snatched her wrist before prying her fist open. Julia let out a shrill shriek as if Fanny had burnt her instead and grabbed hold a fistful of Fanny's blonde locks before tugging hard. Fanny let out a startled squeak and released Julia's wrist in order to fight off the other hand. This allowed Julia to have the upper hand and push Fanny into the wall, Fanny's eyes widened in horror as Julia's hand rose in the air ready to slap her when –

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Dad!"

"Uncle!"

"Fanny stole mother's earrings."

"_What?_! I did not! Julia was trying to steal my present from a friend!"

"What _friends?_ You don't have any friends."

Fanny opened her mouth but her godfather held his hand effectively silencing her. "Enough," he said coldly, "you are both far too old for petty fights over a pair of earrings. Give them to me Julia..._now._" Julia sullenly obeyed her father and he pried open the box. "I see," he hissed under her his breath, "Fanny I want you in my office now."

"But I-"

"No arguing, you ungrateful girl!"

Fanny's eyes stung with tears. Julia's snide comment on her lack of friends was one thing but her godfather's unwillingness to listen to her was another thing entirely. To make matters worse she had no doubt she would be in the worst lecture of a life time and her earrings confiscated, how could she tell Emma that she couldn't wear her earrings because her family thought she had stolen them?

From the corner of her eye she could see Aunt Norris glowering at her. She nodded respectfully as she passed her while trying her hardest not to sob traitorously. She didn't want Aunt Norris to know she was upset but she was also not feeling very brave to hide her despair right now.

It happened so suddenly, one moment she was about to take a step, the next her fingers missed the banister and she grabbed onto nothingness helplessly as a whirlwind of cream carpet and white ceiling filled her world, she then landed with a thud and a sickening crack.

Hysterical screaming filled the air.

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Darcy wasn't sure what his cousin had told Elizabeth but he was certain it wasn't anything good. His loud-mouthed cousin always had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth and whatever it was that he said certainly seemed to have enraged Elizabeth. Any other day, Darcy would have considered waiting for another occasion, but quite frankly enough was enough. He had given her more than enough time and space to figure things out and he wanted an answer.

He halted to a stop and turned round to face Elizabeth. She certainly seemed cross but he managed to ignore it in favour of admiring her beauty once more. Seeing her there, face flushed, eyes bright, and her hair falling into her face like so...it gave him courage.

"I love you," he blurted out.

"I – _what?_!"

He took advantage of Elizabeth's surprise to continue before she used her clever mouth to end the discussion once more. "I know I shouldn't, after all you are not my equal in any way," she was of course his superior in most things, "but I cannot help how I feel. And I know you feel more than fondness for me, and I hope you would be willing to explore these feelings with me in the near future, perhaps even consider living with me next year? We do not have to share a bedroom. I...I would like to spend the rest of my life with you."

"_What?!"_

The incredulous and rather horrified look on Elizabeth's face as well as the matching tone of voice was not encouraging.

"I am asking you to end my agony," he said frustratedly, "these past months have been a torment to me as I have given you the space you had asked. I am telling you that I love you most ardently and am asking you to consider some sort of future with me. To tell me what I think I know...that you love me."

"By the sounds of it you don't need me to say the words," Elizabeth said. Any other time such a frustrating use of wits would have made him smile, his Elizabeth had always been far too clever, but her tone was not one of light teasing or even remotely warm. She spoke in that hard, cool tone of voice, the one that she uses when she was angry. "It appears you have everything decided for me already. Pray, tell me, what makes you think that I love you?"

For a moment he is speechless. What made him think she loved her? Was it not obvious? Or worse had he been wrong all this time? Her beautiful dark eyes were challenging him but he felt stammer rise up in his throat as it always did when he felt her gaze on him. "Last summer!" he managed to speak up at last.

She flushed. "I was drunk!" she protested weakly.

"Exactly, your inhibitions were gone and you acted on your desire," he said feeling a lot more confident now, "and throughout the summer and the semester before we had built a good relationship with one another. I was under the impression you enjoyed my company."

She flushed a faint pink though he wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger. "That was last summer," she mumbled, she then glowered at him, "that was before you destroyed the happiness of my sister!"

He briefly wondered if his aunt would be more upset over him killing Richard or staining her precious expensive rug with Richard's blood...very likely it would be the latter but then Richard had always been her favourite, no one else could get away with cheeking her like he did. Either way he was going to murder his cousin for spilling the beans.

It would have always been a sensitive subject between him and Elizabeth but he had fully planned to tell her himself if it did ever come up. Considering that his friend is too busy moping about without Jane and avoiding any possibility of running into Elizabeth, it was likely to never come up.

It was true that Jane had been pleasant enough, Charles was besotted, and as the summer dragged on he spent more and more time with her. He would have likely had proposed to her by now, he was that sort of romantic sod that rushed through things too quickly. Some might call Darcy hypocritical for thinking this seeing as he just asked Elizabeth to consider living with him next year and they are not even officially dating yet, but he has known Elizabeth for over two years while Charles has only known Jane for a few weeks. Often Darcy and Elizabeth had been brought on these so called dates and Darcy couldn't help but noting the warmer Elizabeth had become towards him, with her flirting, teasing, and good natured smile when he snarked back, the colder Jane was towards Charles as she kept her eyes down casted and stiffened at the slightest brush of fingers.

He said just as much to Elizabeth which infuriated her even more. "Jane is shy!" she hissed. "Even I, her closest sister, don't know her feelings half the time. For the last few months she has been unable to laugh or smile, she has been completely heartbroken, and you helped put her in that state! And for what? Because you decided she wasn't _warm_ enough towards Charlie? You're a right bastard," she sneered at him at this point before she lit up in another fury, "_And what is wrong with my mother?!_"

The question startled him and he began answering without thought, "Well she's hardly what one would call proper-"

This was obviously a mistake as Elizabeth's nostrils flared out in fury. "My mother loves me," she snarled, "that is enough for me and for any man who claims to love me should rejoice that I have such a loving mother." She glowered at him. "But what else can I expect of a man who has no understanding what a family is?"

"How dare-"

"I dare," she interrupted him; "I dare after what you did to Jane, to Wickham."

Now he was furious. The icy cold rage that took over whenever that sleaze ball was mentioned. The iciness that seized hold of his stomach when his parents introduced him to his new brother and the brat smirked at him whenever he got Darcy or Gigi into trouble. The fury that took over when he heard about the Harriet affair which led to the disgusting behaviour towards his little sister just last summer. The coldness that overtook him when Wickham had raged at him by his parents' graveside.

His love for Elizabeth could barely curb the fury that was bubbling through him despite its iciness.

"_Wickham_?" he hissed. "Wickham, again? Did you not learn your lesson with Emma? Wickham is-"

"Emma," Elizabeth interrupted him, "is not you."

"Ah I see," he laughed bitterly, "so your prejudice for me is still colouring your view of the world. Here I thought you could see me and think of me fondly if not fall for me. Instead you continue to take a series of arguments in our first year of acquaintance – most of which you had started with your foolish liberal pride – as the entirety of my personality and refuse to get to know me any better than you do despite your enjoyable attempts to acquainting yourself better with my tongue last summer."

"I was drunk!" Elizabeth flushed a brighter pink and this time he was certain it was mostly out of embarrassment, the thing is he no longer cared. "And I am not the only prideful nor prejudice person in this situation. Your arrogant pride has put even your closest of friends in great difficulty to defend you. Your prejudice against my sister, my mother, and all those you deem lower than yourself and your so called great family, has blacken you entirely in my eyes. I could never love a man who is the epitome of a conservative from the Victorian era. I wish to have never met you, who had destroyed my sister's happiness, I wish I had not even consent to spend this afternoon with you, who dares plans my future for me without my consent or opinion, and I wish to never see your arrogant priggish face ever again!"

The last part had been screamed in his face and he inhaled sharply in not only surprise but sudden heartbreak. His fists, which he had not been aware of, unclenched and fell helplessly by his side, and suddenly he felt so very tired. He no longer wanted to fight, not with Elizabeth or for her; he just wanted to sleep for a thousand years.

"Very well," he said with all the composure he could muster, "I shall never darken your presence again. You have my humblest apologies for making such a fool of myself...I truly did think...goodbye Elizabeth."

As he left to go back inside and seek comfort in his aunt's drink cabinet he decided he would be true to his word in every way possible. He will never see Elizabeth Bennett and her fine eyes again.

**Author's Note: I apologise for the long delay in updates. First I had my As You Like It Performance which you can see on YouTube if you like, just type in Shakespeare's As You Like It in OP and we're the two hours and nineteen minutes long video. That went well, but then I had my dissertation due in straight after that (which hopefully got me a B at least), and then I had an essay due in the week after that, and then I had exams, in fact I sit my last on tomorrow morning...so yeah just been really busy but soon I will be so free I should be able to update more frequently. **


	19. Chapter 18: Home is Where the Heart is

_Rule Number 7: whoever is the last person in the house must ensure that EVERYTHING is turned off or face the penalty of paying the electricity bill by yourself.  
_**I don't think I have ever seen all of you turn so pale so quickly in my life...if only I had my camera or phone with me - **_**The Rules of Austen House by Ellen Dashwood with Commentary by Emma Woodhouse.**_

They didn't even bother keeping her over night.

Fanny knew that that was supposed to be a good thing. That it meant she hadn't been severely injured and she will recover shortly...but she didn't want to go back home. She didn't want to endure another lecture from her godfather, she didn't want to see Mariah and Julia's sneering faces, and more importantly, she didn't want to suffer the sight of Edmund in the arms of Molly Crawford.

After she fell there had been instant hysteria. Her godmother, who had always been emotionally unstable, especially after Julia's birth, had screamed herself hoarse at the sight of Fanny crumpled on the floor. Tom had to fetch her sedatives and take care of her while Edmund had helped Fanny onto her feet. She had barely managed to sit up when Molly whimpered, "Lord that was terrifying," and much to Fanny's broken heart Edmund abandoned her side to comfort Molly.

The pain of her broken wrist was nothing compared to her broken heart.

Her godfather had driven her to A&E but immediately abandoned her in order to return to his distressed wife. She could hardly blame him. Her godmother had needed him more but the fact that there was no one to sit with her as she waited four excruciating hours to be seen, x-rayed, and then have a cast placed on her wrist. No one came back for her. Not even Edmund who used to hold her hand while the school nurse tended to her bleeding knees. She was just about to call for a taxi when she spotted Tom waiting for her with his hands in his pocket.

"Hey," he murmured as he wrapped a reassuring arm around her, "I'm taking you home."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He helped her into the car and buckled her seatbelt for her. It was nice but it had made her feel like she was five. Fanny was not one for resentment when someone coddles her; it was a nice rarity in her life, but a small part of her bristles at the idea simply because she was supposed to be looking after people not the other way round. She was going to be a teacher, she was the one who took care of her godmother during her worse moments, she took care of Tom when he was ill, it has very rarely been the other way round. Before London the only person who took care of her when she was ill had been Edmund, he would read to her, bring her cold glasses of water and hot mugs of soup, check her fever, tuck her in, and wish her well...

And now...now he couldn't be bothered to make sure she arrived at the hospital all right. What had happened? Did Molly have such a hold over his heart that she managed to push Fanny out entirely? Or did he ever really care? Perhaps he never cared at all and had merely needed to waste some time before he found that right person?

As she tried not to cry she realised Tom drove past the turning to get back home. "Tom, you missed the turning," she mumbled.

"No I haven't," Tom said, "I'm taking you home."

"But you just missed the turning, to get there you will have to double back or-"

"Fanny, I'm taking you home."

"But you-"

"Fanny," Tom hissed through gritted teeth, "I am taking you _home_."

It was then she realised he had meant Austen House. He was taking her back to London. Right now, in the dark, and when it was very late. Tears welled up in her eyes, when did she no longer consider her god family's home, her own? From the very beginning was the obvious answer, and she felt ashamed and rather guilty that five girls she had only known for two years were more important to her than the people that raised her. But then, as the tears rolled down her cheek, the horrible realisation was that no one in that house, no one, considered it to be her home either.

"You don't want me here anymore?"

"What? _No!_" Tom cried out. "I love you, Fanny, I adore you, far more than my actual sisters, I think you're the bees' knees, and the best girl alive...which is why I'm doing this for you. Christ, Fanny, Aunt Norris tried to kill you today."

"She didn't..."

The words were caught in her throat because she didn't want to admit that she almost died. If she had fallen at a different angle, if she had broken a different bone, if she had not been so lucky...Lord only knew if she would have survived. Aunt Norris had never cared for Fanny, she had always ensured that Fanny knew she was ungrateful, and there had been many times when one of her bruises had been a result of an extra hard pinch or a prod from Aunt Norris' walking stick...but to try killing Fanny outright?

"Fanny I was there," Tom said, he looked sick to the stomach, "it was like a slow motion horror flick. She purposely stuck her stick out to trip you over..._God Fanny_, if you hadn't been so lucky..." he shuddered.

Fanny did too. Suddenly her whole body was covered in goosebumps and she had a horrible cold feeling, like she could never be warm again..."I can't go back without my things," she murmured.

"Already packed and in the boot," Tom replied instantly.

Fanny brushed the humiliating thought of Tom going through her underwear drawer. "I can't go back without my earrings!" she protested. "Emma had brought me those and I would be a terrible friend to let her money to go to waste-"

"Check the glove apartment." Fanny did so and she couldn't help but let out a little sob of relief when she found the small black velvet box that held the earrings Emma had brought her. "I snuck into Dad's office and nicked them. He won't notice. He'd have forgotten about them by now."

"Thank you," Fanny murmured, "_Thank you_."

"It was nothing."

He might say that but to her it was everything. He had taken the time to not only fetch her from hospital but to take her home, in London, and now he had risked a great deal to steal back her earrings. As she clutched the box in her hands reverently, she muttered a prayer for both Tom and herself.

May God forgive them but may he also bless Tom for his kindness.

She wasn't sure what she would do without him.

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"YOU DID _WHAT?_!"

Anne couldn't help but blush at her outburst which was overlapped slightly by Emma and George's own outburst. She couldn't help her outburst either. She had been so shocked at what had just been revealed. There was a moment of silence as Emma's mobile phone crackled, "Emma," Darcy's exasperated voice could be heard, "do you have me on speakerphone _again_?"

"George is driving," Emma said it as if it explained everything.

Well it sort of did.

"Nonetheless," Darcy said briskly, "who else is in the car with you?"

"Just Anne."

"Hi Darcy," Anne said weakly. "I...erm...don't worry, I won't say anything..."

The phone crackled as Darcy let out a sigh. "Oh don't start," Emma said, "it's your fault. Who on earth in their right mind would confess their life by starting with an insult? And then insult their family, and basically continue working on an assumption! Has no one ever taught you that making assumptions is making an ass out of me and you? Have I taught you _nothing _when it comes to romance?"

"Emma," George chided, "leave Darcy alone. He has suffered enough. Instead you should tell him off for abandoning his best friend without any notice."

"I am giving you notice!"

"I can't afford a single month's rent and the bills on my own!" George snapped. "How am I going to find a flatmate in time for the January rent? It was near impossible finding you. I know you're heartbroken but surely you can survive a few more months in London before we graduate."

"I have promised Elizabeth I would never darken her presence again."

"It's London. You can go for months without bumping into one another!"

"I agree with George-"

"Big surprise."

"Although Lizzie will never forget your insult," Emma continued as if Darcy had never spoken, "she isn't unforgiving. She wouldn't want to you to leave the city because of what happened." Anne disagreed. Solely because you had to be an idiot to miss how Lizzie tried to avoid Darcy for the last few months. That had just been for whatever minor thing that had happened between them, now that Darcy had all but proposed to her and she turned him down flat? It would take a miracle for Lizzie to be on the same street as Darcy let alone the same room. "You don't have to move out of the city to make her happy. Just give her a little time."

"No Emma," Darcy said firmly, "I have finished my work and all is left is redrafting which I can easily do in Derbyshire. It's time I took on my responsibilities as owner of the company and as the legal guardian of my sister."

"Darcy, you're not the legal guardian-"

"I cannot continue leaving Georgie in the care of my aunt, it was partly why she acted the way she did last summer," Darcy interrupted George, "I spent far too much time with friends, I acted like a foolish child and allowed my emotions get the better of me-"

"But that's a good thing!" Emma protested.

"I cannot continue the way I have been acting," Darcy continued, "I'm sorry George, I'm sure you will find someone to replace me soon, and Emma...thank you, for everything, but it is time we parted ways for now."

Before either George or Emma could argue, Darcy hung up, leaving the car silent bar the irritating sound to indicate the call ended. Emma snapped up her phone and silenced it while George looked out at the road grimly. Anne was unsure what to say or how she should feel, she didn't know Darcy as well as Emma and George did, and she didn't want to accidentally say anything that might upset them.

"Drive faster," Emma mumbled.

"Emma, just because-"

"I said drive faster!" Emma snapped. "I may have failed Darcy but I'm not going to fail Fanny."

Anne reached out hesitantly before she placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. Tom had called them last night to let them know he was at Austen House with a badly injured Fanny. The only reason why Emma had not rushed back to London the moment Tom had hung up, had been because her father (and George) refused to let her travel at one o'clock in the morning, instead they waited a sleepless night (as Anne couldn't sleep knowing Fanny was hurt or with Emma tossing and turning beside her), and left first thing in the morning, and that had been when Darcy made his phone call...

Anne briefly wondered if there could be anyway this year could get any worse for them before immediately dismissing the thought. She didn't want to tempt fate after all.

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Emma didn't even wait for George to stop the car. The moment he was vaguely parked outside of Austen House, she ripped her belt off, and threw the door open, before she leapt out and raced up the stairs. She ignored George's shouts as she fumbled for her keys; clumsily she unlocked the door and threw it open.

"Fanny? Are you in? Fanny?" she called out. There was no answer but if she listened closely she could almost make out some snuffling upset. Without a second thought she ran up the stairs and without having to listen out for Fanny's crying, she whirled round to the bathroom and pushed the door open. There curled up against the bath was Fanny, her hair tangled, her eyes red, and her right wrist in a cast. "Oh god," Emma murmured before she fell to her knees and pulled Fanny into her arms. "What did they do to you? What have they done?"

Fanny relaxed into Emma's hold, and her left arm wrapped round Emma's waist. "I'm home," she mumbled.

"Yes," Emma murmured back, "I suppose you are."

Two hands landed on Emma's shoulder and she looked up to see Anne hugging Fanny from behind with a soft smile on her face.

"We're home too."

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Lizzie sat curled up at the bottom of the bed in the guest bedroom in her aunt and uncle's house. After the argument with Darcy she couldn't bear the idea of bumping into him on the estate, or worse have his cousin tease her, or even worse have his aunt on her case. Colin was already getting on her nerves and Lottie had to work. With no one likely to be in at Austen House, Lizzie decided to spend a few days with her aunt and uncle, and more importantly, with Jane.

In her hand was a letter, a rarity when it wasn't a bill or Student Finance, and a handwritten one at that;

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_I write this letter with the hope you will give it the chance you cannot give me. I understand your anger towards me but I feel I need to explain several things and I hope you will read on. You must understand that I did not foresee the possibility that you did not return my feelings. It was arrogant, conceited, and wrong for me to assume you would hold such affection for me. _

_I will address the most sensitive issue between us first; you're sister and Charles. I never meant to break your sister's heart, only to protect the heart of an old friend, and I apologise sincerely. From my perspective it appeared that Jane's shyness was a coldness, I am far too used to public displays of affection from our dear friends Emma and George, from my own family, and of course from previous girlfriends Charles had introduced to me, with the knowledge of love I had, I truly believed Jane held no romantic feelings for Charles. I should have never interfered, it was not my place to, I realise that now, and all I can do now is say sorry. Sorry to you, sorry to Charles, but more importantly, sorry to your sister. _

_With the case with Wickham, I will never say sorry, and I hope you can understand. Yes, George Wickham was my foster brother, my parents had wanted more children, but it had been a struggle to conceive both me and my sister, therefore they looked into adopting and settled on fostering when they had learned about the suffering of children in social care. Whatever was in Wickham's past it had left him disturbed. He took enjoyment of getting both me and my sister into trouble, upsetting the staff, and causing destruction, my parents tried their best to love him nonetheless, and while there had been brief talk of making the arrangement permanent, in the end they had no time. Aunt Katrina took guardianship over me and my little sister, and as I am sure you know, she is not the type to take in what she considered 'strays'. Wickham was sent back into care and that should have been the end of that._

_Wickham had told you about his claims to a small fortune. No such claim or promise existed though he is right that my parents would have wanted to see him well cared for, if not by parental love, then by a small fortune to provide him all opportunities in life. In the later years of our teenage years, he managed to get hold of my details somehow; perhaps someone in our shared past gave it to him, and began to pester me for money. When I came into my inheritance I had decided to pay him off and hoped to never see him again. When I found Wickham he was in a small village in Hertfordshire called Highbury, our meeting had been interrupted by the most incorrigible, persistent, and dearest girl I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, who was quite insistent on defending her best friend's, a Miss Harriet Smith, honour. Wickham had abandoned this girl when she had told him of her pregnancy, the girl was fifteen years old. _

_I think it is needless to say, but previous experience has taught me I should to avoid misunderstandings, that I did not give Wickham the money he desired. Instead I gave it to the girl he had heartlessly abandoned and am glad to say it has left her well provided in a secure career. _

_For years I have not heard from Wickham, then one day, last summer, when I had come to spend a weekend with my sister, I discovered he had taken a new approach in order to get what he wants. My little sister, Georgiana Darcy, is due to inherit over three hundred thousand pounds on her eighteenth birthday, as well as a great deal of shares from our father's company, and a few houses that belonged to our mother. If this was some sort of regency novel I would say she was well desired in the marriage market. Although our society has changed greatly in the last two centuries, it has not changed that greatly. Greed and ambition still exists, as well as malicious intent. I was reunited with my sister who had been taken advantage of by Wickham. They already had sexual relations and Georgie had been under the impression Wickham was going to marry her. When it had been made clear by both me, my cousin Richard, and my aunt that Georgie will not inherit if she marries underage, Wickham vanished. My heartbroken sister had refused contact with me until recently when she came to her own realisations what sort of swine our foster brother truly is._

_My little sister will not turn sixteen until February. If I were you Elizabeth, I would guard your twin sisters jealously around him. He is a predator to all young girls. _

_I also write to apologise to you. For I am sorry, for my manner and attitude, for my cruel words about your family, and for hurting you. _

_And now you know the truth. I ask you not to tell anyone of this apart from your own sister Jane, and our shared friends Emma and George, I will bother you no longer. By the time you arrive back in London I shall long be gone. I have all but finished my education and I do not wish to further your humiliation and pain with my presence. _

_This is my goodbye, Elizabeth, and I do sincerely wish that you find the happiness and success you desire in life. _

_Yours, forever and always, _

_Darcy Fitzwilliam. _

"You're an utter prick," Lizzie whispered to the room, "I hope you know that. A complete bastard to write an apology like this and leave before I can forgive you."

She had read it several times in the last day and a half. Jane had also read it and was horrified, not at Darcy's appalling behaviour, but at her own. Then she was hurt that Charlie didn't know her as well as she had thought, that he didn't think she was worth fighting for, and that once again she had opened herself up to the wrong man. Lizzie had a feeling that Jane was not going to be able to warm up to another man for a very long time.

Her head was still reeling from the knowledge of Wickham's true nature. She really should have listened to Emma and George all those months ago. Her pride, her natural stubbornness, and her prejudice – her terrible judgement-clouding prejudice – had made a fool of herself and a man that she cared for.

Damn, she cared for him, she couldn't call it love just yet, but she did like what she saw that summer, and she did want to kiss that bastard desperately.

God she was such an idiot.

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Ellen was horrified when she got back in the evening.

Last year in the confusion of going home, someone – who will always remain nameless – left the bathroom light on, and they ended up with one of the biggest electricity bills ever. They ate discount food for two months straight to remain in budget, as no one would accept Emma's help, and since then it had been house rules that the last person to leave the house was to ensure _everything _was turned off.

Ellen had been the last person in this time and she tried to recall if she had forgotten anything desperately. Admittedly she had been distracted by her work, by her determination to not let Fran get to her, and her frustration with Marianne when she saw how bloody broken Chris looked when he arrived to see her off...but she was so certain that she had switched everything off!

When she entered the house, however, she was in for a pleasant surprise. The smell of good cooking, and the sound of Anne's laughter emitting from the kitchen. Ellen dropped her bags in surprise and rushed down the hallway, as she pushed the kitchen door open she was greeted by the endearing sight of Fanny and Anne serving up dinner, though she noted with concern Fanny's wrist was wrapped up, and both she and Anne were home alarmingly early.

"Hey," she managed to get out.

Fanny and Anne jumped a little and looked at her in surprise. Anne clutched the serving spoon to her chest and Fanny had almost dropped the cutlery. As soon as they realised it was Ellen though they relaxed and their faces warmed into loving smiles.

"Welcome home," Fanny said warmly.

"I'll get another plate," Anne said, "or have you eaten already?"

"I haven't, but is it okay? After all if you've only cooked for yourself and Fanny then-"

"We, erm, well cooked for seven actually," Anne blushed, "We had forgotten that it was just the two of us. Emma and George went back this morning, her father wanted to spend some more time with her."

Ellen smiled fondly at her friends. She had been there herself plenty of times being the only one who worked during the holidays. She soon learnt to live on meals for ones otherwise the fridge would be over flowing with leftovers. She briefly wondered what on earth happened with Anne and Fanny, and why did it involve Emma and George, but decided it was another conversation for another day. "I would love to have some," she said cheerfully, "I've missed your cooking in the last week."

"I've missed yours as well," Anne blushed an even brighter shade of pink. "Ah, welcome home Ellen."

"Thank you, it's good to be back."

**Author's Note: sorry this took longer than I thought. I had hit a little writer's block that took a new Emma oneshot to cure (please check it out!), I hope you enjoyed this, and the next chapter should be out sooner than later. **


	20. Chapter 19: Newcomers in the New Year

_The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually before her - he was presented to her, and she did not think too much had been said in his praise; he was a __very __good looking young man; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father's; he looked quick and sensible. She felt immediately that she should like him; and there was a well-bred ease of manner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon must be. – Emma by Jane Austen. _

After the New Years the girls had locked themselves up in their bedrooms either working on essays or revising for exams.

Although that was not the only reason the house was quiet. Emma was quiet because George was too busy interviewing potential flatmates, Lizzie was silent about whatever happened to her during Christmas, Cathy was sulking about the stupidity of her brother, Fanny was trying not to think about her wrist, and Anne had recently received a phone call from her aunt she refused to talk about. Ellen felt that she was the only one who didn't have anything going on in her life right now. It was both a pleasing relief and a disturbing disappointment, was she really that boring that there was absolutely nothing that can cause her a problem in her life?

Did she live all her excitement those years ago?

A much appreciated break from revision came in the form of her little sister. "Hello! Anyone in?" Marianne called at the doorway.

"How did you get in?" Ellen asked as she looked up from her textbook. Marianne held up the house key they had given her a couple months ago. "Marianne! You were supposed to return that to Emma when you left!"

"Emma told me to keep it, said I'm welcome anytime," _of course Emma did_, Ellen sighed to herself, "And you did tell me to come over soon to pick up my Christmas presents."

"Oh now you want them," Ellen rolled her eyes, "after over a week since the day."

"Hey! I've been busy."

"With Willoughby I suppose,"

"I'll forgive you for that scathing comment," Marianne crossed her arms defensively, "but only because you spent Christmas with Fran."

"They're tying for a baby."

"Urgh! Fran and John having a baby, the poor sprout, it'll either go insane with a mother like that or become a spoilt brat because of a mother like that. John would be a useless parent as he is a brother. God can you imagine-"

"Not Fran and John," Ellen interrupted, "Fran doesn't want her figure ruined and John isn't ready to spend less time at the office either."

"Don't blame him," Marianne snorted, "if I was married to a hag like Fran I would also spend all of my time in the office." She then blinked her beautiful eyes at Ellen and stared at her curiously. Marianne always had the most unnerving, penetrating, stare that had always won a round of staring contest. "Who is trying for a baby then?"

"Fran's brother and his wife."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Are you...are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"God, Ellen," Marianne snapped, "you're so cold. Its times like this I wonder if you ever loved him or not." Ellen didn't dignify that with an answer. She was used to Marianne accusing her of being passionate less and unloving at the best of times. She just didn't recite romantic poetry at the man she fancied like her sister did. It didn't mean that she doesn't care. "Well then, if you're fine, I need some advice." It was Ellen's turn to stare at her sister curiously. "Lately," Marianne chewed her lip a little nervously. Unusual for the confident girl. "Willoughby has been a little distant lately...he isn't as open to me as he used to be and he keeps working extra shifts."

"You don't think he's-"

"God, no! Willoughby isn't like that!" Marianne defended the love of her life (and believe her, Ellen was using that term lightly). "He loves me ever so much, and I him. But...well...I think it's because of the anniversary of his parents' death is coming...I just want him to know that I'm still here for him and he can open up to me."

"Hmm...I don't know sweetie," Ellen said softly, "you artistic types baffle me. I think the best you can do is continue to show him how much you care. Little things always count."

Marianne smiled and they soon caught up with one another. Marianne told Ellen far too much about her bedroom life with Willoughby and how they spent New Year's running round London and...Well Ellen learnt far too much about her sister's sex life at that point. Then Ellen told Marianne how Margret has once again changed dream careers and now wants to be a policewoman, which in both sisters' opinion was an improvement on explorer, and that their mother had dyed her hair a new colour, and finally how Chris had actually spent Christmas Day with them much to his embarrassment and that their mother was in love with the idea of him becoming her son in law.

It wasn't until Lizzie came staggering into the kitchen to prepare dinner that Ellen realised what time it was. She was horrified to find out that they had managed to spend the entire afternoon talking – blasted little sisters and their determination to ruin all revision plans!

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"You're just in luck," Chris said, "I know someone who is looking for a flatmate."

Fred wondered what the chances of that actually happening were. After all it seemed highly unlikely that the day he arrived in London a friend already knew somewhere that was reasonably cheap for him to stay. He had expected spending at least two weeks sleeping on Chris' floor while looking for a place within budget.

Sophie had been horrified when he announced he was moving to London.

"But it's dangerous! And expensive! Who will look after you? For god sake Fred you only just got out of hospital! You're supposed to take it easy and work on your therapy not cavorting around London looking for a job!"

"I can do my therapy at a hospital in London," Fred had tried to soothe his sister, "besides I cannot live forever on your charity as welcome as it has been. I need to do something for myself and Chris said-"

"Oh because that man knows what's best for you!" Sophie snapped. "He's the reason you're missing an arm! And how can we trust a hospital in London? They've been known to give terrible health care."

They had argued for days. Fred defended his superior's honour, Sophie was determined to blemish it with blame, Fred felt that Sophie watched too much Panorama, Sophie thought Fred was too carefree, Fred accused Sophie of being a smothering, controlling nag, and Sophie cried and retaliated by calling Fred a suicidal, thoughtless, heartless, and ungrateful human being. In the end it took Fred's brother in law to calm them both and make them talk to one another without it descending into a heated debate.

Fred won simply because Fred would not give in. Sophie was nowhere near as stubborn or determined as he was, and therefore eventually gave in with a derisive snort, "Do what you wish but don't come crying to me if you end up sick or dead," Sophie grumbled as she served up his last meal in the house.

He knew he was being a little reckless, a little impatient, and a little too determined for his own good but he was bored! He was bored of doing nothing but watching day time TV and surfing the internet. He was frustrated with the sympathetic glances. He was lonely with the only company being the smothering care of his sister and the friendly companionship of his brother in law. He wanted to do something for himself. He wanted to work again. He wanted to come home bone tired. He wanted to see other people, speak to other people, people who wouldn't keep glancing at his missing arm. He wanted to meet new people.

There were many reasons for his ill-advised and rash decision to move to London all of a sudden.

But if he was honest to himself, which he always was apart from the rare occasion, his main motive for moving to London was very simple and could be summed up in one word...

...Anne.

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"Why are we here again?"

Lizzie would have regretted the question but Emma's dirty look was just far too amusing. It would have been one of those days of freedom, her nightmare of an essay had been handed in, and she finished the other one just last night that wasn't due in till Monday, so surely she should be able to chill out and do something fun. Instead she was forced to help with finding a flatmate for George.

She wasn't sure why she had to but Lizzie did have the uncomfortable suspicion that Emma and George knew what happened on Boxing Day.

_I ask you not to tell anyone of this apart from your own sister Jane, and our shared friends Emma and George._

Goddaminit Darcy! Why did he have to be friends with her friends as well? Yeah, she knew he was friends with them as well and she couldn't be nasty about it, but come on it made it so difficult for her whenever something happened between her and him. Urgh!

"Well, since George tends to spend far too much time at ours," Emma said, "its common sense to imagine his flatmate will spend some time with us as well, and therefore we should make sure it's someone we like."

"That and I needed unpaid help with the cleaning," George called from the bathroom.

"Slaves you mean," Lizzie muttered darkly. She found so much crap under the sofa when she pulled it out that she wondered why there hadn't been a rat infestation. "Does it really matter how clean it is? Within weeks it'll turn back to its filthy state."

"Apparently George lost three potential flatmates because it was so dirty" Emma shrugged, "and he doesn't want to lose this one because he comes with Chris's recommendation and you know how much George values Chris's opinion."

Lizzie narrowed her eyes at Emma's casual tone. If memory served her right the last three potential flatmates had all been female classmates of his...Emma was never jealous when it came to George's attention, likely because she knew she commanded it all, but occasionally, situations like this...well maybe Emma wasn't immune from jealousy after all.

Lizzie's thoughts were cut off immediately by a knock on the door. "That's them!" George cried out as he hurried towards the door, hastily pulling off the rubber pink gloves Emma got him, and chucking them in the kitchen. Emma and Lizzie followed curiously and arrived just as George opened the door. "Hello Chris, and – oh it's you!"

"You!"

"You!"

"And I'm me," Lizzie butted in, "I take it you all know each other."

"Ah," George said sheepishly, "it's complicated."

"Well it makes it easier if you two know each other then," Chris said, "Lizzie, this is a military friend of mine, Captain Fredrick Wentworth, Fred this is Lizzie Bennett."

One look at Fred was enough for Lizzie to have another reason to despise the Afghanistan war. She had always felt since the age of ten when it first started that it was unnecessary for Britain to go into it. In her small little mind she couldn't understand why Britain should fight America's battles. Then the knowledge of how it was effecting the economy, how not only Afghanistan but Iraq (a war that she really was disgusted by) were torn up, and then, in her History A2 exam module that had covered the beginning of the period, she learnt that the terrorist group they had been fighting had been trained by the British back in the eighties. _Fucking typical_! Then there were many news reports of the many men who died fighting over there, a waste of lives that could have been doing far more...but it was Fred that really made the impact of how terrible the war is. Fred Wentworth was no older than she was, and yet his eyes were older than her parents, they were eyes that had seen carnage and death before him. He stood unnaturally stiff like Chris as if he would always be unable to relax. He looked tired, worn out, and unhappy, haunted obviously by his nightmares and memories of the war. And then there was his arm, more accurately the lack of it, to be twenty one and missing an arm...

Sure there were many worse off than him, people who were paralysed, people who lost more limbs than him, but still there were far more better off than him and it wasn't fair.

"Nice to meet you," she said without hesitation offering her hand to him.

"You as well," he shook her hand.

He wasn't looking at her though. He was looking behind her and she couldn't help but take a peek behind, to her surprise Anne was standing directly behind her. Anne wasn't looking at her though or at the floor like she usually would around strangers, she was looking back at Fred. Flushed cheeks, eyes glittering with admiration and other emotions that Lizzie was unsure of, and her usual small smile playing on her lips; Anne looked like a girl in love, or close to it, and Fred looked like a boy smitten, while Lizzie was blatantly the piggy in the middle getting in the way of it all.

Yeah, awkward.

"Right," George said interrupting the silence, "why don't you come in and I show you around?"

They all crashed into one another as they tried to make room for Fred and Chris in the narrow hallway. In the end Emma, Lizzie, and Anne crushed themselves together in George's ridiculously small kitchen. Honestly it was like he lived in a shoebox or something. Lizzie tried not to grimace as George showed the new guy Darcy's bedroom. They didn't go in to clean it but that wasn't the problem, Darcy had always been neat and tidy, it was just...well the fact that George needed a replacement flatmate at all niggled at Lizzie.

"So," she said trying to change the subject, "you all know that guy?"

"Hmm," Anne mumbled, "went to school together."

"Bump into him when we picked up Anne," Emma shrugged.

Right...well Lizzie will just ignore the obvious secret keeping. "Huh," Lizzie said, "well he must have fancied you back then."

"What!" Anne blushed.

"Couldn't take his eyes off you just then," Lizzie teased.

Anne flushed even more and stuttered an attempt to refute Lizzie's statement meanwhile Emma's eyes had that far too well known mischievous glint...the matchmaker was back in town.

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It was snowing!

It had started two days ago and was still on-going. At this rate Emma was wondering if there was a strong possibility of being snowed in. Luckily the ever-prepared Ellen had stocked up on tins and necessaries after her shift at Tesco when it had first started to snow, just in case. And then worried that George and his new flatmate might accidentally kill themselves when buying electricity from the newsagents (because George just had to have one of those meter things, didn't he?) Emma had ended up inviting them to stay at Austen House. So for the last couple days they had all been rather snug in the living room with hot chocolate while they watched movies and reruns. Unfortunately Cathy had not been part of this as she still had exam revision but all the third years, post-graduate, and the non-student could enjoy themselves to their hearts content...

Another bonus of the snow had been that Operation Anne and Fred was definitely on the go. So far there had only been shared looks, glances whenever the other is not looking, and blushes, but it's a start, and Emma doesn't want to ruin something so _adorable_ by pushing it further. That's not how she matchmakes, she simply creates a scenario like them living together, and let's them go with it how they please. She had tried to create a moment where they could talk to one another alone but quite frankly in a house this crowded it was near impossible unless she snapped and locked them in a room together which would only make it worse. They were both the type that needed gentle encouragement to do something on their own. Well, okay, Fred just needs orders, but Emma wasn't his superior officer and there was no way someone as sensible as Chris would help out with a love match...not without telling George, and then George would just lecture her on interfering with other people's lives, _again_.

"It's really piling it up, huh?" Lizzie said.

"Yeah, and weather forecast predicts we'll get more over the weekend," Emma said as she took a blissful sip of her hot chocolate. "They're going to clear it off the roads soon; it'll be all black and yucky."

"Pity, it's quite pretty to look at the way it is."

"I think we should have a snowball fight."

"You know I'd kick your arse."

"Oh bring it on."

They gathered the others and even dragged Cathy out of her room for a snowball fight. George tried to protest on Fred's and Fanny's behalf but Emma shot him down, pointing out that their one functional arm can be used to throw while others make the snowballs, and Fred had at least backed her up. Fanny on the other hand (no pun intended) wasn't too enthusiastic at the idea of fighting in general. In the end they separated into teams of four, George, Fred, Anne, and Lizzie on one team, with Emma, Fanny, Ellen, and Cathy on the other. Come to think of it, in her attempt to ensure Fred and Anne some bonding time, she might have just set herself up for a losing fight.

Fanny's aim was terrible and kept hitting the cars parked on the street rather than the 'enemy' while Fred had managed to get them all several times. Cathy kept squealing and giving them away while Anne was silent as a mouse as she made the ammo. Ellen at least was decent enough but nothing compared to Lizzie, and then there was George who knew most of her tactics.

Out of sheer desperation Emma grabbed as much snow as possible before she ran into enemy territory and smashed it all in George's face.

"Why, you little-"

She screamed as she ran down the road, occasionally slipping on the snow, as George chased her like a mad man throwing snow after her. She managed to dodge each one apart from those that George didn't throw far enough and they splattered on the ground pathetically. Confident to the point of arrogance, Emma cheekily stuck her tongue at him and jeered him on. Unfortunately she slipped on an icy patch and George caught her.

"Got you!"

"Let me go!"

"Not a chance." Emma squirmed and kicked as George tightened his grip on her. He held her up a few inches off the road which meant she could kick his shins but unfortunately he seemed to be entirely immune to her kicks today. Instead he leaned down and whispered into her ear, "You're now my prisoner of war." Was it her, or did winter suddenly turn into summer? After all she suddenly felt unnaturally hot especially in the face when she felt George's breath against the shell of her ear.

Stumped all of a sudden, Emma stopped fighting George, and decided to try and lure him into thinking he's won before she took him by surprise and wins the snowball fight. That and she needed time to cool down before her head exploded at the images George had just unknowingly conjured in her head. Goddamn that arrogant, too gorgeous for his own good, git of a man!

"Ah! Hello!" a voice called out. "Excuse me! Sorry to interrupt but do you know the way to the university campus?"

Emma looked up to see a young cheerful man waving at them. Like George, he had dark eyes and dark hair, but that was where the comparison ended. He was dressed stylishly with what appeared to be the latest fashion range, his hair seemed immaculately groomed underneath his hat, and his features were more defined and sharper than most males Emma knew. From where she stood he seemed a little shorter and not as broad shouldered as George. All in all he was an incredibly good-looking guy.

"The university campus?" Emma repeated. "Sure, it's just round the corner, take a right, and then another, and finally a left. But there won't be anyone in. Not in this weather."

"I'll take my chances," the man smiled, "thank you, milady. I hope you escape this man's clutches and win the battle." He winked at her and gave her a cheeky little grin that made her blush, just a little bit. She landed on her feet as George dropped her like a sack of potatoes. She wasn't sure why he did it, probably didn't like the implication he was being brutish or something, but it meant she was back in the game. "Goodbye," the man said with a small flourish that mimicked a bow.

She couldn't help but watch him walk away there was just something about this man that touched her. Perhaps it was his cheerful manner, or his confidence, or even his good looks, perhaps it was all three, but she liked it. She really liked it.

Then Lizzie hit her in the face with a snowball and she forgot all about him in favour of beating the ever loving crap out of one of her best friends.

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If it was any other day than her first then maybe she would have stayed home. Okay that was a lie. It was her first actual job since she finished her PhD over half a year ago and she wanted to make a very good impression. After all they might find a permanent position for her if she does well enough or failing that give her a very good recommendation for her next job. The building was virtually empty aside from a security guard, the office staff, and the odd student she seen heading towards the computer rooms to finish their work.

She had been given the person who she was filling in for's office. There was little she could do with it as the previous person had no time to empty his office and quite frankly is likely to be back soon enough anyway. Instead she logged in on the computer and focused on her lesson plans while working on her PowerPoint for the first lecture.

She was really nervous; after all she had never taught a class on her own like this before. What if she failed to teach them anything at all? She was an excellent student but she has no idea what sort of teacher she was. What if she couldn't even inspire them to read their texts for that week?

"Knock, knock."

She looked up and saw the love of her life waiting for her at her door. Yes, that was cheesy, and yes that certainly did bring a smile on her face. Seeing him always did. "Hello, Frank," she said, "what brings you here today?"

"Can't a bloke see his girl just because he wants to?"

"Of course, but you usually have some sort of agenda."

"I wanted to see if a certain Professor Fairfax wanted to go out for dinner with me tonight."

Professor Fairfax. Professor Jane Fairfax, PhD, she quite liked the sound of that.


End file.
